there is just no polite way to say “4:30am”…

by shadymama

it is dark and there is a wet chill to the air when my cell phone squawks me startled, yanks me up through the sultry.molasses.depth of sleep into air that is too thin and grey matter that is wrapped in cotton batting.  eyes thick, mouth dry, limbs heavy and unfamiliar; the very bare and ragged seams of my dreams turned waking edge.stitch.and.button.  too early.  too early, even, for the birds to sing their sweet

good mournings.

thus, i stumble, thick.dry.heavy, in the quiet of a whole world sleeping, trip over the detritus of the every day and fall into the bright blinding bathroom to shake and splash myself awake. 

there is just no polite way to say

4:30 am.

and there is just no polite way to say.shitty mother.impatient lover.slacker housekeeper.cranky employee.bitchy customer.irritated woman –

tired tired me.

and there is no easy out anywhere in the infinite spin of everyday necessities; the sharp thrust of “must” rushing up to meet my feet every time i jump, try to gain some levity or light,

some flight.

the soles of my soul feel pricked.pierced.bloodied and i am awaiting (impatient but not eager, mostly just slumped gratefully against inevitability) the tough yellowed ridge of callus that is certain (certain?  certain.) to form.  oh, but child, do you know what it means when i kiss the green.stretch.sweetness of yer neck and whisper love into yer ear?  can you feel the pull of my inner.spin, the way my gravity is tied no longer to the earth’s core, but instead to the beating of yer bear pink heart inside pearly white ribs no bigger than…no,

bigger than

they once were; once upon a newly born time when the span of my newly mama’d hand dwarfed yer back and you could stretch out, small mouth in its wet.black.cavernous O, asleep on my torso, no bigger than a wink with jet downy hair and a scent of something deeply familiar, yet completely brand new that tickled my nostrils to a twitch and sent my heart

pounding into my throat.

i love you so.  and i just wish you, and maybe the rest of the world, could know – oftentimes, i am only reaching the sparse.shattered.scattered.bare.bones periphery of

the best i can

and raretimes i am hunkered down, solid.driven.stake-through-muscle.and.bright-red-too, in the thick midst of a simply pulsing

the best i am

 but mostlytimes? i am just trying to be here.

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