breakups

I could be stalwart- standing strong
with a heart numbed from necessity or
a puddle of pain on the floor.
And breakups always seem to happen to me
when I need support the most-
when my walls are pushing in- and I cant breathe.
when my foundations are crumbling- and I have
nothing to grab hold of to keep my on my feet.
when my nerves are shot- and I dont even have time to cry it out.
But maybe I didn’t need him so much as I needed
a chest to finally rest on-
still the absence stings like February air on
exposed skin and there isn’t the hope
of a thaw in sight.
But maybe one day someone will love me enough-
hold me tight enough to help keep all these
pieces together- and ward off this chill
because this has been the longest winter of
my life and I am losing sight of warmer weather.

“breakups”- 2-25-14- jessicagadziala

hey johnathan

hey Johnathan-
tell me I am wrong again-
tell me I should have held on until
my fingers bled or broke-
You could have pushed a little harder-
made me face my fears and admit that I needed you.
Because this silence breathes as devastating as
you forgetting to even call me on Valentine’s Day-
and screams as obvious as the box of chocolates
bigger than my arms can encircle sitting in my
bedroom that I refused to give you after.
and, oh, hey Johnathan-
maybe you could have told me you loved me-
a year and a half feeling like I didn’t
know where I stood had me inching ever
closer to the door-
and you should have introduced me to your friends-
instead of hiding me away in the shadows like a secret that
made my self-conscious mind pick myself apart until
every insignificant flaw felt exposed and so
painful that I was afraid to
make love to you anymore because there was nowhere to hide them all away.
(And you stopped calling me beautiful six months ago).
So, maybe, Johnathan-
you can understand that my pride wont allow me
to call you anymore-
and that maybe if you had treated me just a little bit better-
I would have stayed by your side
even though I knew that like a
pretty size six on my ugly size ten feet-
we were never going to fit.
I would have let myself spend my life
squeezing into a mold that
would always pinch me tight and uncomfortable-
and I guess- Johnathan…
maybe I was right
again
for letting my grip slip and allowing you
to fall away.

“hey Johnanthan”- 2-25-14-jessicagadziala

Don’t Panic

Don’t panic-
I know the anger comes charging back
like a stampede bent on pulling your under
and the sadness sweeps as constant
and crashing as the ocean on the coast-
but you have to remember words said
rashly leave scars on you as well as him
and you are running out of room on your skin these days-
But you need to breathe-
inflate your lungs with the memory that
you are better than a message harshly written-
and breathe out the urge to throw
the candy you bought him all over his truck
(it’s going to snow- he wont even see it for days and then it will be too late)-
Take a step back
view this as the woman you will be in five
years time-
belly burning in embarrassment for actions fueled my pain and resentment
or calm and proud that you kept your wits about you-
This may be the end you saw coming like leaves reaching the end of their color cycle and hardening-
You might have to accept that there will be
grief that will shake you to your core… again-
You could make the mistake of using this as a reason to keep your heart even further out of reach-
And you may have to start all over.
But don’t panic-
hearts bruise and heal
scars form and fade
and you will be okay.

“Don’t Panic”- 2-15-14-jessicagadziala

Miracle Of Engineering

You have to learn to treat yourself
better than you allow others to treat you-
you are a miracle of engineering
with ten perfect fingers
ten (almost) perfect toes
and a nose that isn’t too big for your face.
You could have a glass of wine with
Botticelli and discuss the perfect
fullness of your thighs
and how it is art that they touch together-
and Rubens would say there is nothing wrong
with a belly soft enough to fall asleep on-
Victorian era men would fall to their knees
and spout sonnets to the heaping fullness of
your breasts above your corset-
the same ones you allow yourself
and others to call too big-
you could spend your life detailing
every freckle
and blemish
and jiggling inch of skin-
or you could thank your mother
for making you
a miracle-
a piece of art never to be repeated-
and stop letting those
assholes bring you down.

“Miracle Of Engineering”- 2-15-14- jessicagadziala

So I have been seeing someone for a year and a half- and he didn’t bother to see (or call) me on Valentine’s Day. Let’s just say there is a lot of material festering around in the recesses of my brain for some poetry today. Stay tuned.

When You Live With An Addict

It’s that constant uneasy sensation
in my belly when I see my mother notice.
Her face is red and her pupils are small
and she can’t stop talking- like the drugs
remover the filter between thoughts and words.
She’s high again and mom can’t bite her tongue.
The anger spills as poisionous as venom of a funnel-web spider-
afterall
she kept her warm while she
grew in the womb.
She begged for money from neighbors
to buy her milk when our father spent
all of theirs on beer and pot… again.
She took her to specialists
when she was ten and her body wouldn’t
stop shaking-
raised hell when the bullies had her
too scared to go to school
and she is thanked for all of this by finding
four grand missing from the account meant to
save our house from foreclosure
and getting home from work to find items missing-
sold to support a habit.
And I slink away, uncomfortable,
when the words get loud enough to wake the neighbors.
Because on one hand I value my mother
more than I do the breath in these lungs but
the sensation creeps in from childhood like a knee-jerk reaction-
when overhearing my sister get scholded
and worrying that I would be next
even though I did nothing wrong.
And once upon a time-
we built sand castles
and fought over boys
and straightened each other’s hair
and covered when one was doing something
we knew we shouldn’t.
But now all I can see is these inhuman eyes
and a selfish soul
and the person who has made my home
not feel much like home anymore

“When You Live With An Addict”- 2-12-14- jessicagadziala

When You Live With An Addict

It’s that constant uneasy sensation
in my belly when I see my mother notice.
Her face is red and her pupils are small
and she can’t stop talking- like the drugs
remover the filter between thoughts and words.
She’s high again and mom can’t bite her tongue.
The anger spills as poisionous as venom of a funnel-web spider-
afterall
she kept her warm while she
grew in the womb.
She begged for money from neighbors
to buy her milk when our father spent
all of theirs on beer and pot… again.
She took her to specialists
when she was ten and her body wouldn’t
stop shaking-
raised hell when the bullies had her
too scared to go to school
and she is thanked for all of this by finding
four grand missing from the account meant to
save our house from foreclosure
and getting home from work to find items missing-
sold to support a habit.
And I slink away, uncomfortable,
when the words get loud enough to wake the neighbors.
Because on one hand I value my mother
more than I do the breath in these lungs but
the sensation creeps in from childhood like a knee-jerk reaction-
when overhearing my sister get scholded
and worrying that I would be next
even though I did nothing wrong.
And once upon a time-
we built sand castles
and fought over boys
and straightened each other’s hair
and covered when one was doing something
we knew we shouldn’t.
But now all I can see is these inhuman eyes
and a selfish soul
and the person who has made my home
not feel much like home anymore

“When You Live With An Addict”- 2-12-14- jessicagadziala 

Advice For Life When You’re Having A Quarter-Life Crisis

 

For god’s sake- 
remember to do laundry before
you are wearing your last pair of 
clean panties-
you’re not sixteen
absentmindedness isn’t cute anymore.
Spend the time talking 
to your aunt about dating-
you’re the only person in the family
who understands what it’s like
in this millennium.
Read romance novels
to remind your seasoned soul
and battered heart
that love exists as long as someone
remembers the feelings strong enough
to put pen to paper about it and
first kisses can still
send shivers down your spine.
Try to take off your makeup
before going to sleep and keep
your promises even when you change
your mind-
avoid being fickle and cynical
and keep your childhood wonder-
the world may be big and bad and 
scary enough to want to hide under your covers forever-
but the greatest feeling in the world
lies on the other side of fear
and you never look back regretting 
taking chances-
try jumping in without testing the waters-
and, seriously, do your damn laundry.

“Advice For Life When You’re Having A Quarter-Life Crisis” – 2-11-14- jessicagadziala 

You Could Cry

You could cry-
take to your bed in 1950’s dramatics
screaming of the unjustice to a god you are not even sure you believe in-
or you could take a class in
classic literature and read all those books that have been weighing your shelves for years-
go to a club on a salsa dancing night
and press your body against a stranger-
you could see every Broadway show
you have always wanted to
or volunteer your time loving animals
that have only ever been kicked around
and find something kindred in that healing.
You could become bitter-
push everyone away who tries to hold your hand
because you are afraid of losing any more of yourself-
or you could take chances-
let men take you to their favorite haunts and try foods you never would without encouragement-
and only kiss the ones who think your body is beautiful just the way it is for a change-
You could let heartbreak become setbacks-
or you could use them as a reason
to leap forward-

“You Could Cry”- 2-6-14- jessicagadziala

You Could Cry

You could cry-
take to your bed in 1950’s dramatics
screaming of the unjustice to a god you are not even sure you believe in-
or you could take a class in
classic literature and read all those books that have been weighing your shelves for years-
go to a club on a salsa dancing night
and press your body against a stranger-
you could see every Broadway show
you have always wanted to
or volunteer your time loving animals
that have only ever been kicked around
and find something kindred in that healing.
You could become bitter-
push everyone away who tries to hold your hand
because you are afraid of losing any more of yourself-
or you could take chances-
let men take you to their favorite haunts and try foods you never would without encouragement-
and only kiss the ones who think your body is beautiful just the way it is for a change-
You could let heartbreak become setbacks-
or you could use them as a reason
to leap forward-

“You Could Cry”- 2-6-14- jessicagadziala