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Heartache or just indigestion?

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Sometimes I wish I was a child again… a skinned knee heals quicker than a broken heart.


My heart does ache but I don’t think it’s over the loss of Ryan.  What did I really lose there anyway?  He wasn’t even mine to lose.  I think my heart aches for the loss of my life.  The life I shared with Eric.  It wasn’t all negative.  We had some great times, we raised two beautiful children together.  It’s just run out of air.  We’re suffocating.

The question is, can I keep it together for five hundred and forty something more days?  I’ve been lonely for a long time.  Over three years.  That’s when Eric and I began to drift apart and were either too tired or just didn’t care enough to try.  The passion was gone. Can you even get that back?  I wonder.  I really don’t know.  I thought I didn’t have any left, like it had dried up inside me like an old prune.  But Ryan showed me it was still there.  I’m still alive and have renewed hope that maybe I have another chance at love.  A second chapter. When I think of it that way my heart doesn’t ache as much.

Funny, I could never have imagined my life without Eric.  I was in it till death, really. But now I can’t imagine him in it.  I’m sad, scared and also a little excited.

To put things into perspective, it’s not my heart that’s aching for Ryan.  No…I’m aching down South.  Literally. He woke something up down there all right.  Let’s hope it’s not some crazy beast with an insatiable appetite!  Suddenly I picture myself as a lion tamer, equipped with a whip and chair.  But how do I tame the lioness?  Silly…I toss the whip and chair aside and step into…a cold shower.  I quickly jump out because it’s cold and that sucks.  I sit cross-legged, eyes closed, controlled breath and meditate.  Think relaxing thoughts.  A beautiful meadow.  A light breeze.  The sun warms my face.  I open my eyes, Ryan stands before me.  He leans down and pulls me up, holds me tight against his naked, chiseled chest.  He kisses my neck, his warm breath melts me.  Okay…that didn’t work.

Writing.  Yes.  Writing will get me through this.  I’m rusty, not that I was well oiled to begin with.  So I will dedicate this time to learn, improve and practice my writing.  Good plan!


About Marnie

Writer, photographer, crafter & crappy chef

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