DROPKICKromance Read online

  for amanda

  my queen, my heroine.

  foreword

  at the time you’re reading this, cyrus & i will have been married mere months. in my own poetry collection, the princess saves herself in this one, i unfold the story of the abuse i endured as a child & how i managed to survive it. it doesn’t sound like the typical love story—probably because it isn’t. if anything, it’s a self-love story, but i couldn’t have written such a complex story without including my now-husband.

  in princess, i wrote:

  he

  did not

  teach me

  how

  to love

  myself,

  but he

  was

  the bridge

  that

  helped me

  get

  here.

  - i thank the universe every day for you.

  self-love is not an easy thing to achieve. it is often a treacherous journey you must make on your own. yes, i’m the princess who saved herself, but it was the bond i shared with cyrus that gave me the courage to approach the mouth of that bridge to self-love when it finally came after more than twenty years of suffering from silent trauma. when he let my hand go so i could take that long walk across, he waded rivers & climbed mountains to meet me again on the other side.

  in these pages you’ll finally be able to catch a glimpse of the wonderful man who helped me so tremendously on my way from victim to survivor. the robert browning to my elizabeth barrett browning.

  you will also find the tale of two relationships. the first, a toxic & dishonest one that lasted too many years. the second, a respectful & fulfilling one that will, with any luck, last a long & happy lifetime. i have read & collaborated with cyrus on these pieces many times over the past year. rest assured: he is so talented a weaver of words that when he aches, you will ache. when he falls, you will fall. if i didn’t already know the woman in the second half of this book was me, i undoubtedly would have fallen for myself.

  proceed with caution. i promise you will become entranced by the likely all-too-familiar words of love & heartache you’re about to read.

  - amanda lovelace

  i’m lacing my boots

  with my words and

  dropkicking the world,

  because my feet have been

  planted on the ground

  for far too long.

  — DROPKICKpoet.

  i’ve always taken to

  admiring people

  from afar.

  i never dared get close,

  because looking back at me

  was never hope—

  the possibility of finding happiness

  in another,

  or someone finding their happiness

  in me—

  but instead,

  the looming shadow

  of rejection,

  its sinister voice telling me

  you’re not good enough,

  you’ll never be good enough,

  why would you think

  you could ever be

  good enough?

  — i never thought i was; i just hoped.

  too many people

  have pushed me away

  without ever giving me

  a chance.

  too many friends

  have turned their backs

  without ever giving me

  an explanation.

  — connectivity issues.

  the thing about keeping

  the world

  at arm’s length

  is that it becomes

  far too easy

  to become attached

  to the first person who shows you

  the slightest bit of affection.

  — unsuspecting.

  we have the entire world

  at our fingertips,

  so why should we limit ourselves

  to only what’s around us?

  — a web of hopeless romantics.

  i was young and naive,

  a heart filled with ideas

  of what love

  could be.

  i don’t know if it was

  happenstance or fate,

  but there we were,

  polar opposites

  drawn together

  on an earth-shattering

  collision course.

  — brace yourself.

  where i was shy,

  you were bold.

  where i lacked courage,

  you were fearless.

  where i lacked experience,

  you had more than enough

  for the both of us.

  — i hoped you’d rub off on me.

  when words

  are the only interaction

  you have with someone,

  you have no choice

  but to get to know them

  for what’s on the inside.

  — how is this any less real?

  i kept my

  trust under

  lock and key,

  guarding it like my

  best-kept secret.

  — and there you were with a set of picks in hand.

  you were

  a l l – c o n s u m i n g

  every spare

  thought,

  every stray

  word,

  every single

  second

  of my day

  was yours.

  — my one thing.

  i knew you had demons

  you were struggling to

  keep at bay,

  so i swore i’d stand by your side

  as you waged this war,

  until the day

  there were no more demons

  left for us to face.

  — your demons are my demons.

  three

  initials.

  carved into the inside

  of my eyelids.

  three

  initials.

  burned in the back

  of my mind.

  three

  initials.

  etched into the very core

  of my soul.

  three.

  initials.

  like bullets in the chamber

  of a pistol.

  — i’m just waiting for you to pull the trigger.

  just a friend.

  just a friend.

  just a friend.

  just a friend.

  just a friend.

  just a friend.

  just a friend.

  just a friend.

  just a friend.

  just a friend.

  just a friend.

  — who are you trying to convince?

  every single word

  an excuse

  without a single letter

  of honesty.

  every suspicion

  a confirmation

  without a single admission

  of guilt.

  — fool me once.

  before

  we got back together

  you told me

  that he wrote songs for you.

  so i bought a guitar.

  i thought that

  if i could write you songs

  like he did,

  maybe,

  you wouldn’t

  leave

 
me

  again.

  i tried first

  to teach myself

  how to play

  your favorite songs,

  but i couldn’t make my fingers work right.

  the guitar and i

  were not a good match,

  so i gave up trying,

  and i gave it away.

  — some things aren’t meant to be.

  we’ll wipe the slate clean,

  tear out the last chapter,

  start over from page one.

  we’ll pretend

  none of this

  ever happened.

  we’ll pretend

  you regret

  what you did.

  we’ll pretend

  that i am not

  damaged goods.

  — let’s pretend.

  everything started

  feeling

  n e w

  again,

  like the first time

  your words

  made home

  in my heart;

  before those

  three

  initialsbullets

  made home

  in my skull.

  before i began

  second-guessing

  everything

  around me.

  — before i began second-guessing myself.

  he drifted toward us

  like a swirling black cloud

  on a calm april afternoon—

  i felt a storm coming

  but you told me it would pass,

  so i bit my tongue

  as you ran toward

  the wreckage

  he left in his wake,

  and when you came back

  drenched in deceit,

  i was there with a towel in hand.

  — fool me twice.

  how

  many

  times

  can someone

  make themselves

  f o r g e t . . . ?

  — i’ve lost count.

  even when you

  put me first,

  it still feels like

  coming in second.

  — i’m tired of being the runner-up in my own life.

  the question

  i should be asking

  isn’t how,

  but why.

  why does it seem like we’re stuck on repeat?

  why do i always feel like i’m never good enough?

  why do you keep sticking the knife into the same wound over and over again?

  — why do i keep letting you?

  you’ve sacrificed

  so many pieces

  of me,

  it’s only fair

  that you sacrifice

  something

  for me.

  — i’m not asking for much.

  suspicion

  held my tongue hostage,

  crushing it

  in its sandpaper grip

  until i quenched its

  thirst for knowledge.

  i dug through the mud

  until i struck water

  and it pulled me under,

  filling my lungs

  until my chest

  burned with realization.

  i ripped myself from the water’s

  grasp and heaved myself

  onto your front doorstep,

  where on your welcome mat

  i threw up all the truth

  that i had no choice but to swallow.

  — and somehow drowning was my fault.

  you told me

  your demons were a thing of the past.

  you told me

  there was nothing left to haunt us.

  you told me this,

  all the while turning around

  and embracing them

  with open arms.

  — your demons are still my demons.

  your self-destruction

  wasn’t something

  i could stand by and watch,

  even at a distance.

  i’ve watched people i love

  suffer endlessly

  until the only thing left for them to do

  was die,

  and although i was being

  every bit as selfish

  as i was selfless,

  i wanted you

  to want this for yourself,

  not for me,

  because i knew

  you were worth it

  and i needed you

  to know

  that too.

  — i’m not giving up on you.

  i think i became

  addicted

  to the pain.

  i knew

  you were bad for me,

  but i couldn’t make myself

  say no.

  you took over

  my every

  waking moment.

  i knew it wasn’t healthy

  and i knew it was getting worse

  but i couldn’t make myself

  say no.

  — i’m not even sure an intervention can save me.

  left alone

  on the cold tile

  of an unfamiliar place

  in a pool of my own tears.

  — my punishment for not trusting you.

  you knew i hadn’t yet

  learned to swim,

  yet you took my hand

  and walked me

  into the deep end

  time after time.

  i don’t know if

  you thought watching me go under

  would teach me how to stay afloat,

  but it was because of you

  i learned never to leave home

  without a life jacket again.

  — it’s sink or swim, and i refuse to drown.

  you ran into his arms

  and held on for a

  split second

  too long.

  i didn’t know him

  and i didn’t need

  to know him

  to know that

  something

  wasn’t

  right.

  — i am not right.

  who is he?

  how do you know him?

  do you two talk a lot?

  hang out a lot?

  have you told him about me?

  why haven’t you told him about me?

  — how do i make it stop?

  “promise?”

  — how to trick yourself into coping with trust issues.

  a single word

  treated like gospel,

  an oath,

  a spell,

  that would bind you

  to the words

  that fell too loosely

  from your lips.

  if i couldn’t believe

  in you,

  at least i could believe

  in it.

  — i can’t move forward if i’m always looking back.

  this isn’t

  the person

  i

  want

  to be.

  this isn’t

  the person

  i

  was supposed

  to be.

  — take me back to before i cracked.

  i didn’t question

  whether

  i had just grown used to the hurt.

  or whether

  you finally decided that i was worth it.

  and i didn’t question

  whether
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  you had simply gotten better at lying,

  or whether

  i had stopped being able to tell.

  i didn’t question

  anything.

  i just accepted

  this peace

  for what it was.

  — if you can’t handle the answer, it’s best not to

  ask the question.

  the road between us

  was fractured beyond repair,

  but we refused to let it

  crumble away into dust,

  so we tarred up the cracks

  and hoped it would

  be enough.

  — the wound closed, but the bleeding didn’t stop.

  it was now or never:

  defeat the distance,

  or let it defeat us.

  — i won’t go down without a fight.

  six hours.

  three hundred and fifty-six miles.

  two hearts.

  one love.

  — i-75.

  your walls were a work of art.