the world & words of a new york city writer

gretchen is a writer in new york city

Tag: heartbreak (page 13 of 14)

impulse ignition

impulse ignition

i wrote. poetry. for and about him.
too far to speak. i metered emotion.
off switch. flick. let’s live like there’s no within.
like my heart un-heavy, my song unsung;
desire to explain an… impossible. Continue reading

sunday thai

It’s just after noon in a small Thai joint somewhere in the east 30’s on the corner of Madison.

I enter the establishment wearing a t-shirt with a typewriter on it appropriately labeled “writer” in courier print; a tipped Kangol hat; and a pair of men’s carpenter pants, cut to fall halfway down my muscular calves. It’s hot outside.

The “shorts” once belonged to my second husband, and someone before that because they were second-hand like everything else about him. The t-shirt was a birthday present from the first. Divorce is impossible, I’ve learned. It never goes away.

The restaurant is empty and both of the gorgeous Thai serves, one male, one female – both 20 something – are over the moon to see me.

“You’re open right?” I ask knowing that they obviously are but grabbing the chance to flirt with the pair of them.IMG_2143

“Yes, yes!” they say smiling and speaking at the same time.

“Which table? Any table you like.”

I take off my hat and grab a bench seat toward the front where natural light is still flooding in, prior to when the sun tips too far west and afternoon shadows cast. But before I actually land in the seat I say, “Thai beer?”

“Singha?”

“Yes, please.” Continue reading

in a space of separation

in a space of separation

i woke up
with glasses
on
my table and
high-topsIMG_0556
on my floor
and he does
not
know that when
i ordinarily
rise every morning
i immediately
look for ways
to stay
sleeping. Continue reading

crushed commitment

crushed commitment

My husband pawned his wedding ring for $275 two months after I gave it to him. He drank the money and fell asleep on Avenue B. When he came home the next day, he lied about everything. He lied about where the ring was. He lied about the drinking.

He lied. Again.

I tenderly removed my ring and tucked it in the silk-lined box I saved after purchasing the set I couldn’t afford. The money he took from a grey-eyed woman with sweaty hands was nowhere near what I paid. What I’m still paying back.

A week after it occurs, I realize I can no longer keep a piece of jewelry that bears no meaning. My therapist says my fear of rejection is what caused it all.

“You are too forgiving,” she said brushing wispy bangs from her face. “You’re the most forgiving person I know.”

I came to New York City to fade into the streets after I lost my soul mate in Australia because of a fatal accident. People always tell you that accidents happen. They leave out the statistics of people who actual survive them.

My Soul Mate is an unfortunate statistic. I am starting to understand that I am too. That he and I always have been. It’s part of who we are. Continue reading

a whisper to next time

a whisper to next time

sweeping away. i undressed
and standing lost center.
balance beam dreams. Continue reading

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