Regression

The woman I met

and brought into my heart
and home
was
smart, crazy smart
attractive, sensual
kind, generous
adventurous, a seasoned traveler
and steady.

Having survived a relationship
typified by ugly attacks,
deep insecurity, and
the assaults that went with it,
I needed and sought out
the perceived calm of her.

The connection was immediate,
intense and deep.
I saw a future
spanning decades,
until death,
a life in which we each
would love support one another,
activists in our own right,
the whole being greater than the sum.

…but all was not what it seemed.
I know that now.

She was a daughter,
so starved by her mother for affection,
she ate whatever was offered
even when it was toxic.
A constant diet of shame
about virtually everything
from what I could gather;
her body,
her skin,
her teeth,
her sex,
herself.
Thus an adult grew,
paralyzed by her own fears
and need for approval.
Still starving.

Although our start was strong,
the connection deep,

and the attention plentiful
based on the mere whiff of the perceived threat
that she would starve yet again,
she regressed.
She turned into a child
before my eyes;
her demeanor,
her needs,
her voice,
her mannerisms,
her tantrums,
her.

Childish manipulations
to get what she needed
commenced
and, I
rooted in my own need to have her stay,

flexed,

dialogued,
comforted,
reassured,
and showed up
until the day I couldn’t
anymore.

She turned into a child
virtually overnight
and, I realize in hindsight,

my lover
became a daughter of sorts,

she looking to me

to satisfy her,
complete her,
be the spark of life
that allowed her to thrive.

I am a great mother
to my daughter, my son,
and while I am certain this is part of
what drew her to me,
I cannot baby a lover
….and still be able to fuck her.

~ Mk Michaels