If

By Jan M. Smith January, 2010

If my heart were made of glass
It would have shattered
And could have never been fixed.

If my heart were made of ice
It would be so frozen
One would never be able to get inside.

If my heart were planted with flowers
The weeds would have taken over
From the years of pain and neglect.

All I ever wanted in this life with you
Was to love you and find happiness
All I ever looked forward to was for you to return.

I had waited all the many years for that look
For that touch that meant you did finally see me
To take my breath away again, I needed it so much.

And now when you have that look and love for me, you do
You bring promises to me on a bloody pillow of torn dreams
And it is hard to lay my head and find rest with you there.

I have told you that your face is mine and mine only
No one should have seen your face in the throes of love save me
I am broken and wasted and fall backward screaming inside, cut

You were it for me. Just you. You were it for me. You.
Your smell, Your Taste, Your Eyes, You in the night.
And now I am lost in the visions of being nothing special at all.

When one says the words "I Do" they lay in the bed God gave
They learn of love, grow together, learn the touch that is just theirs
No other knows it but you two and it changes as you age and grow together

I am the only one who grew in that way, and grew only to you
Now I feel grown to them, to the others as well, as you bring them to me
You grew with others, their touch, their way, not just with me.

I have to take this out of my head in order to have my love with you now
You took what was sanctified and made it unclean and it has to be made whole again
They were not clean they were lost souls, slaves to the flesh, just like you.

I am so damn broken.

The Wonder

By Jan

I wonder if she has stepped on the bus
And her look was just a sly eye to the side
And, I wonder if his chemical being gave him a shot
And, of a sudden she was planted in his mind

Then the next time that she got onto his bus
Because these people they ride time and again
And, gave that sly eye and knowing smile was he ready
And, gave it back to her with his blue eyed grin.

And thus has a dance with this person been started
And, he is finding relief from a pent up pressure inside
And he is telling himself this is ok, I am doing nothing wrong
But in fact this is the beginning of his deadly demise.

Does he think of her as her boarding time nears
Or does he think of her and pleasure himself when I am not around
And, with this fantasy is he not realizing that he is planning
To make a second move on her with hope and fear

His illness is about being secret and taking risks
And the sex is about hiding his pain and anxiety away
And this person is a pawn in this game that is deadly
She is the same as he is and she is ready to play.

So, these are the thoughts that I deal with each day
He thinks of himself as different, stronger, not like them
Won't go to the 12 step meetings
And, so I wait for the wonder to begin.

The Choke

By Jan

I feel that old familiar feeling, it is coming again, I hear that smell in my brain when he said "think of all  7" and I knew there were only 6.  When I saw that movie, the one he never saw and when he lied to me that he never saw it and found no pleasure the step was taken backward, and then there were 7, I heard it and my brain smelled it.

There was a time when he would have gotten angry just as he did, screaming at me over nothing, losing control and spewing forth a rant, even saying then perhaps I needed to think on how to do this different, inferring we should be apart, but when I said pack and go then, he could turn it on me as the bad guy.  He is still the master, in his mind.  I am now his better.  I see him clearly.

Changes are coming and the truth is going to be told over the next months and this man of mine will lose himself, and he knows this.  This man of mine has many, many times told the truth accidentially and then said he never said what he said or that I am making it into something it was not.  Oh, there were times when he could do that, oh yes he could and confuse me.  But no more.  I HEAR EVERY WORD HE SAYS.  The problem is that he does not hear them.  He says them unconciously, without meaning to.  His cover up attempts are pathetic.  They make me ache and hurt.

Now, my issue is do I wait this out, stand by him and find all this out, and decide?  But what else can I do now.  I have to know, though, that I may not be here in the end.  I have to be prepared that we may not survive this, as I am sure he knows this himself.  He is upset as I have never seen him.  Yes, he did stop his antidepressant, and yes that is contributing to his condition, but it is more than that.  There will be a lie detector before this is all said and done.  He will have to do this.  I will never rebuild my trust without it.  I was glad when my new doctor said they have them there and that it is necessary for some to have it done to restore trust.  It will be for me.  I will never get there any other way.  But, first, there must be him getting inside this new program and then we will work towards that.

But, for now, I feel the choke.  And, I want to cry until it kills me.  He is in relapse.  He is apt to do anything.  Yes, he is.  And, I cannot stop him.  But, it will absolutely kill me.

That Ole Familiar Feeling

By Jan M. Smith 1/2010

Just when things get to feelin like somethin
And the windshield of your life seems clear to the other side
Some big bird flies over and shits on it
And distorts your vision makin it seem like that other time

Just when your stomach seems all settled
And your favorite foods begin to taste good on the tip of your tongue
You bite into an apple some worm done took a dump in
And your throat cannot swallow that lump

Just when the world seems less cloudy,
And you see the blue sky up above trying to peek through
A cold north wind swoops down on your heart
And you feel the same desolation you did from the start

Just when you think you can finally hear the birds sing
You can feel your toe tapping with a smile in your mind
You hear one name, or that one, or the worst one
And a high pitched sound comes and blocks out the sun

I want no more 'just whens' because I am so weary
I would rather just lay down and die
No ones heart can live and die over and over
No ones, no not even mine.

I miss you Daddy.

Star Catchers

By Jan M. Smith

What a wonderful relief I have found
To be able to meet some nutty clowns
Who seem to be lost in a haze of chiffon
With anvils and hangmen's nooses on their arms.

Say what, about who, and you did what, I am lost
No surely not, I mean, say that again, what? you are gone?
There is a game, did I not pick the top hat as my man
Oh I see you always must have the upper hand

Well, my dears do not you think that you can slam that door in my face
And you knock on it and I slam it on my foot in my haste
And while I am hopping around in pain, sad and blue
Then you can take a look inside my clean innocent room

There was no agenda here, no heart of coal, nothing being sought
You have nothing I want or care for and much from which I would bolt
Because you see, my dears, you do not know me, that was your mistake
You somehow must understand I pick and choose my own fate

No one owns me and no one owns my name,
No one tells me what to do nor who to claim
But if anyone hurts me, or my friend just the same
They are banished to forever land and I stand unashamed

If you stand still long enough ones true colors are usually shown
They are the ones who cause pain, lash out and make themselves known
They tilt their chins and fa fa from their mouths with wide red smiles
And they just may lose the best people from whom they could have shared some miles.

They live in an endless circle trying to catch a ride on a star
They fluff up their hair, looking for a name, a limousine car
So get at it, go on, leave the real folks alone.
We have stuff to do, not dodging your dry bones.

Buh bye

Look What Feel Out Of The Sky

By Jan M Smith

Something fell onto my shoulder
Or maybe it fell into my heart
It was the betrayal of another friend
Another from whom I shall part

That something was disrespect for my person
It was treating my heart as if it were worth spit
She said to me "God it was nothing"
"We both were just drunker than shit".

Well, let me tell you something my "old" friend
My old friend who never really was
You knew he had broken my heart with another
And what you did was something, and it gives me pause.

Why did you hide it and go away and not tell?
Why did you deceive your husband and me?
Because it was wrong and you know it you bitch
Just another turd to hang on your lifes empty tree.

I have quite a collection of slut friends it seems
How in the world did all you girls grow up to be whores
My husband is not that handsome, please, are you so empty?
That you cannot look somewhere else to score.

So bye bye, see ya later, hit tha road, we are done
I am through with the likes of people who think like you
If you had said, "I am so sorry, I have regretted it all these years"
I may have got through this, after I cried this bucket of tears.

White Wash

By Jan M Smith, 12/2009

If you scratch at it's surface
If you peel away all the dirt
You may get to smell the nasty
That lurks in the soul of his work

It really was not the way that you think
Not so awful, so crude, so full of filth
It was somehow more sterile and clean
Somehow she was not a pig he winks

Oh hell yes she was a pig a slut a whore
She was not a friend, she was trash on my floor
But you were a pig too my friend, it is a fact
You cannot white wash over this any more

I am disgusted by both of your acts
I am disgusted by the woman that you chose
I am disgusted by what a liar you both have been
I am disgusted that everyone knows

So put your paint brush back in your pocket
Put that bucket into the trash
Maybe she will catch it when you dump it
So it won't hit her in her fat ass.

Mr. Bored Room

By Jan M. Smith

What is a man, is he flesh and blood, or is he a weed in the field waiting to be plucked and thrown to the wind?

I say he is but a piece of chafe and not worthy to be plucked. He is a mindless fool in the days of his youth and glory, only interested in what he can conquer and where he can throw his seed. He thumps his chest and climbs the stairs of life, regardless of where they lead him whether to the top of the board room or the to the bedroom of another man's wife. He spends his life building a family that he has no care for, he slings it to the side for the glow of younger women so he can crow from that nest on the 16th floor. All the while his wife and children watch him with hollow eyes, hungry for his attention, for his touch, and he garners strength from this need, it makes him strong.

But, oh too soon, his children no longer care, they no longer hunger for his touch, his skin to them feels cold like a snakes, papery and thin, and their eyes are indifferent as his are pleading and his voice laughs as he talks to them of times that he remembers they shared, which never were. They look at him with sorrow and indifference, eager to get on with their lives, he reaches for them, and only grasps the air, and his back is bent with time, his skin is loose with age. The chest that he thumps is hollow and sunken and as he never had a heart for anyone but himself; his heart is small.

He turns to his wife who waited by his side, and became bitter and sad with time. He made the decision at an old age to rid his conscience of his sins and with this to destroy her life. Her eyes are sad and indirect. They look at nothing. They have lost their glow, their depth. They see a man that gave his body and soul to others and now tells her she was always the "only one he ever loved" and is supposed to think this is a gift. She lay awake at night and wishes that he would die or leave so that she could breathe. Her life is over as she knew it. His eyes that enchanted her disgust her, they are fading and empty, his breath smells of filth, his body is soft and gone to seed. There is no happy. They love each other no more, but they pretend to struggle toward it.

Now he is living his life in the bored room. It is the trophy of his life and it is the one that he deserves. He is an empty, soulless man. Too shallow to be evil. Too thoughtless to be smart. Too selfish to see the hurt, the real hurt he has caused all those around him. He will say, "I am so sensitive, can't you see this", meaning "I am a tittie baby and want someone to feel bad for me because I have fucked up my life". Tough shit.

If Only

By Jan M. Smith 2009

The season of love has passed my door

The hour of sunshine is fading fast

The year of passion lingers unrequited

And the memory of a lover leaves a tear

How high are those mountains that we build in our lives

To climb and cross over to our success

That once we get there we are grasping for the next ring of silver

But our mirrors do not lie and it is over at last

If we could walk through those same meadows filled with sunlight still

And linger with the film fallen from our eyes

And if life’s worries and stresses could be put to the side

Would we hold each other tight, only to each other abide?

Or would we, as did Adam and Eve, find a way to destroy our lives

Take what could be perfect, what should be ideal

And twist it until we no longer saw ourselves in the play

But two strangers lost in pain leaving innocent children to pay.

I have loved you more than I could ever have hoped to love

I have given you all that was within me to give

I surely could have expressed it better and made you feel good

But in my heart there was no more room for you to live

The great white sadness that comes over me and threatens my air

Is the deep despair at what could have been for our old time in our life

We will grow old together and hold hands as we die

But so much was lost, such precious devotion given, unrequited

You were the love of my life, you hear those words

But you were the love of my life, my life

This is the only life that I get, my just one

And I gave it to you, just to you. Why not just me?

Hold Me While I Cry

By Jan M. Smith
My marriage is over
Hold me while I cry
The man I loved never existed
Hold me while my heart dies


The crushing pain in my chest
The holding of my breath
The tears that never end
And anger for a life that could have been

So much information that it leaves me blind
How could he have been so careless, so unkind
To have forgotten his children, forgotten me
For sex with people with no future he could see.

So for my virtue I have won a prize
For my trust and my belief and his great disguise
I will hurt forever and never understand
The evil in the heart of this one man

Who held me and cried when our children were born
Who said he would never, ever leave my life again torn
That professed to me his undying love
Who could have left this home anytime, anytime.

He was never forced to be here, in fact it was I
Who did not want this marriage of doubt , it was he
Who insisted that we marry and raise our child to give him a chance
To do the right thing and I embraced this dance.

But then he used this life to weave a story of strife
To justify his sin and make it seem right
To screw my friends under my nose and smile in my face
All the while knowing he had become a total disgrace.

So, in my older time after 37 years
I am going to pay a deep price for marrying this master of tears
This man who only thought of himself
Gratified his ego and pounded his chest

This man who robbed me and took my life
And sliced it open with his jagged knife
So that the pain would hurt like a burning wheel
In the middle of my heart that will never heal


A master of deception a man who I gave my life
A person with a beauty who took me as his wife
Then cut me to pieces and fed my life to wolves
A little at a time as he licked the knife.

I thought he loved one and my heart was so broken
Had I known there were six I could not have spoken
Or could have breathed or lived or looked in his eyes
That he used to capture others as he did me that first night.

A Hero

By Jan M. Smith 2008
(written 6 mos after a confession but before reconciliation and knowledge of my husband’s sexual addiction, for which he is in therapy)

I wish that I could make him a hero
A man who could make this thing right
Who could save my heart and pull me
From the pain that threatens to destroy my life

Not a hero in tights that flies in the air
Nor one who can bend steel with his hands
Not a hero that can send beams of fire
To annihilate his enemies as they stand

No, a hero who would take me in his arms
And tell me he always loved only me
A hero who would say sex with me was magic
Was breathtaking, second to none, it was complete

When I express my fears of his leaving
When I am sure he has made contact with her
He would make sure I understand it would never happen
How could anyone replace me now that he was clear?

I wish I could make him a hero
Instead of a deaf mute
Who sits and listens when I share my pain
That I am not good enough, I am sure he will go again.

That he would stop me in mid sentence
And tell me again, no matter how many times
That not one of those people were worth it or good enough
That I was always the jewel in his crown.

Not only just stop me in mid sentence
But turn me and look in my eyes
And say this to me with conviction
And love and compassion and pride.

Instead, he just says nothing
When I say something that implies I am not as good
Instead he just pats my hand
Like a puppy or as a good friend would

As I think about this past year
And all the pain and sorrow we have had
It occurs to me that it may have been much less
If a hero had come forth, a Sir Galahad

I think the hero that may have been spent too much time
Trying to make himself look better and hide
To try to focus on what he did to his bride
He forgot what his words did to me, only what they did to him

He internalized his pain at his sin and told parts
He made the other party look bad so he did not
He left me bleeding at each corner as he wiped off his leg
He forgot to be a hero and say the right things

And as time has passed so has his guilt
It is way too easy to see
He is now regaining his sense of self
And that is why he gets so mad when I am not me

That is why he fights back and calls me names
He is ready now to take up the fight
He is feeling that he has paid his dues
And I know that it is only a matter of time

Because he could never be a hero
He could never lie when it was needed by my soul
He only lied when he wanted to deceive me
So that he could keep a woman on the side, on the dole

Or he could lie when he wanted to make it look better for him
This double life that he lived
He was content to make his lovers look worse
So that he somehow could look whiter with less sin.

How can I heal if I stay in the marriage?
I am sick enough to need him to affirm
That they now no longer matter
That I am more than them, they were just germs

That they were just a sickness, to make him feel hot
Hollow humans with no morals or souls
They were diversions so he did not have to look at himself
But on my heart they took such a toll

But he wants to believe they were important
That they weren’t just carnal shit
He wants to not see himself as an asshole
So he doesn’t save me, he saves himself

It leaves me comparing myself, I feel less
I cannot get my feet on solid ground.
He is my only true lover, I know no other
I cannot compare and say what I am

I could go out and share myself with another
Any sorry man would say I am the best
I hold men in such contempt for their egos
And also the women who hurt their sisters, the tramps

But here I am at the last leg of my life
With so much information that I never knew
And I feel so inept and so useless
And afraid, I really do not know what to do

My body is a patchwork, a quilt of where breasts used to be
My body cannot compare to the others
Who were a decade younger than me
I feel done in, alone still, and angry inside

So, I wish I could make him a hero
I have tried to tell him how
I have told him to not just listen when I talk
But to correct me and uplift me, not take me down

To not do that he is confirming all that I am saying
He is saying that the others were better in bed
I am no comparison to them when I take him in my mouth
I am no comparison to another who he has had

And as I watch myself slowly going away
As I watch myself leaving each day
And my heart is broken and my mind bends back
Inside I am screaming stay, stay.

I needed a hero, you needed to tell me
I have told you this time and again
Others have told you as well, you knew what to do
Then you make my fears valid with your sin

As you are becoming bigger
I feel I am becoming small
And fear we will cease to be
And then need no hero at all

The difference now is we are older
The difference now is that I am not well
But even with that ahead I can leave you
I can run away, I can leave and not tell

I can still find myself a new life
One where games aren’t to be played
I can live alone until I am ok
And I can wait for the future day

Right now you are bigger than life for me
Right now you consume my air
Right now you have broken my heart
Right now full of woes and cares

But, I think that I can do it alone
And I think that if you want to be free
Keep avoiding being a hero
And find out if you really want me

Because sometimes you have to be your own hero
And I am afraid I may have to be one for me
I may have to save myself from you
Because I need to not need you, you see

I hope when you read this you get what I say
I hope that you understand what my tears leave out
What the anger and the rage do not get over to you
What is causing my withdrawal today

I cannot go inside to live, inside myself again
I did that for years to avoid making a scene
Being afraid to lose you was all a joke and in vain
I never had you, I was wrong, but not again

If “easy” is what you want
That woman who will change to suit your needs
You had better get to moving and looking elsewhere
Because that woman, she is not me.

If that is what you want in your soul.
I am not that person and can never be
I am sick of it, fearing it and trying to ignore it
So if the hero needs to go, go on and find “she”

I fear you are a shallow man and your needs follow suit
You cannot help it, it is who you are and I never knew
I need more than that and I am lonely and blue
And darling most of all, I am through

AFFLICTED

By Jan Martin Smith

You used to bring me a flower, only for a minute. You used to find the best one, only for a minute. Now it is past the hour. You draw me pictures no more with six birds, with fingers that could bring me pleasure or pain, only for a minute. What used to be amore~ is now my armor as I stand in a battlefield flowing with blood tears, lain bare with pain, me stepping over all my bleeding bodies, so many of me deeply scored, destroyed, mouth gaped open, throat gagging, screams caught in my soul, skin afire, fight raging inside turning me inside out killing my heart; my tears do not cleanse me, only bring more uncertainty, more pain.

I have spent my entire life, loving a man-child, a man-monster, a man-liar, who was ever grasping for others, more, while having me chained to his wall. I have spent my life believing a vow-lie, a coward, a heart that was not true, while being chained inside my own mind. I am addicted.

I used to turn flips in his bed, for more than a minute. I used to be the best one, for more than a minute. But now the hour is past, and all the grimaces of pleasure that hit my stomach and breast cancer body pierce my soul, for the rest of my life. My armor is thick and cold and can never be taken down and my heart's blood fills my armor, I choke on my pain, I scream, I claw at you, as my skin melts. The fight is raging inside me, I am turned inside out, I cannot hear my heart, my eyes are full of anger and rage and unforgiveness and pain.

I have spent my entire life, loving a man-child, a man-monster, a man-liar, who was ever grasping for others, more, while having me chained to his wall. I have spent my life believing a vow-lie, a coward, a heart that was not true, while chained inside my own mind. I have been addicted

I used to hear your heartbeat and not want to cut it from your body, for a minute, I used to love your blue eyes; they had power, but no more. Your smell and body no longer draw me and make me tremble keeping me chained to your wall, your tongue is contaminated, you used it many hours. All those countless howls you took under your body while I cried in my soul, chained to your wall, now I have the key. Your cloudy eyes, your heartbeat far away, my armor that contains my anger so that you may live another day and that I may one day heal and see colors again.

I did spend my whole life loving a man-child, a man-monster, the best liar, who never had enough, and kept me chained to his wall, and I believed, believed a vow, it was a lie, he was a coward with no heart, who kept me chained inside my own mind. I was addicted. It was dark as night.

I was

Afflicted

As I Lay Me Down To Weep

By Jan M. Smith

As I lay me down to weep
I pray my husband will not lie to me
Sometimes I hope I die before I wake
Because from me my soul did he take

In the sea of life where colors change
Often blue or green, sometimes strange
I have ridden a boat that had no oar
But had a gaping hole in it’s floor

What is rushing forth to drown me are lies
So many that I cannot tell when I look into his eyes
If he really loves me or is just abiding his time
For 37 years without telling me, it was a crime.

A crime of carelessness with my heart
To satisfy his reputation he thought he was smart
To be with our children but still keep her alive
Inside him active but hidden from my eyes

To be left aside for a woman with no mores
To be tossed and not cared for, to be lied to for a whore
To eat with her, sleep with her and miss love nigh these years
But to not know why is the source of my tears

I had asked him so very many times
Am I the punishment or am I the prize
As I fought so hard to keep my marriage alive
But only to find out I was a fool and blind

I was not the punishment or the prize
He had his choices, he ignored mine
He remained hers in his heart for years
And he was never affected by my tears

So I was the punished and always felt
Like I was the other woman in this hand I was dealt
Like I stole my husband from this woman who was skilled
At cutting up familys never caring who she killed

Why I paid such a high price was because I was blind
To what was happening to my life as I saw this unwind
No matter what I wore, weighed or however I was resigned
Nothing in him ever changed or to me was inclined


And now I seek help to stop the thudding of this pain
That only leaves me for a minute and then remains
To eat my insides and carve out a hole
That leave me so empty and without a soul

Could I ever be different after all this in my life
Would I even care to, who would want me for a wife
Another man who could lie to me, or would I think that he did
Who would pay for things done to me by him.

TEARS

By Jan M. Smith


The tears on my face feel like blood from my soul
They come when I think and are warm as they fall
Coursing down my heart and causing a pain
As I remember what I never knew once again

They say you can never change the past
But your yesterday is made of broken glass
If you lived a past that was never yours
And was a hidden deception so he could endure.

The tears are shed for the ache and the pain
The tears are shed for the blood that stains
Your memory of life, some good and some bad
But regardless, now it is all too sad

Your attempts at life have left you a bitter soul
Hiding your heart in a wrapped box that is so cold
But never understanding why it was that way
Because that is not what he had to say

And now you wonder, as wise women do
Didn’t you really know; feel, weren’t you really in tune?
Did you turn a blind eye thinking what was couldn’t be
All the while on the inside being taken to your knees.

So now the years have passed and many lies have been told
And the life in your hands, this one that you hold
Feels like nothing, feels like pain, poison and a joke
And you scream out “I am so stupid” as you choke

When you are the last to know, that one in the cold
And you are a trick pony until that grows old
You just feel like a fool, an idiot, a dolt
And this is one time you just wish that you weren’t

To start your life over with illness and age
To start your life over with fear and rage
Is daunting but you know that you will never believe
Of any love or anything that this person has to say

Your heart has been twisted and wrung and tossed
Your soul has been hollowed and spit on and lost
Your existence was useless for the future you prayed
And the blisters on your psyche are too many today

Start over, start over, start over you say?
Be sweethearts now, when I begged in those days
For a touch or a thought or a kiss from my mate
That never was coming and now is it too late?

I have started over so many times in my heart
There is no place to start, to put a new mark
For the other mark’s graves stand rotting inside
And those useless marks are reminders I can’t hide

I was used and I am used up
I was cheated on and I am old
I was scarred and I am ugly
And my tears are blood from my soul

Bleeding Soul

By Jan Martin Smith

I am bleeding in my soul
My heart is stained and tired, my heart is old
It does not matter if I trust my lover
It matters if I trust myself
To know the difference
Between hemlock and honey
My eyes too blinded by themselves
Eyes have always opened souls
But now their doors are closed
My arms are tingling
Are burning like cinders of coal
I know not how to stop the torture
As I am the author
And I slide down the wet leaves whose moisture
Are the tears from my heart that
Is really the blood of my life
And now that my life is close to done
I am looking at a life of regret and uncertainty
And I know that I have lived with a sickness
Much worse that has paralyzed my heart
In my soul for more years than I have left to live
I am bitter now, angry and scared
Why did my life turn this way?
How do I stop hating myself
For my weakness and my blind eyes
For the blood pouring from my soul