my broken heart broadcasted, blogged, blasted
on the internet
my wreckage for all to view, favorite and bookmark
and the pain still lives in my stomache
in the body
no text characters or media files could fill that void
my emotions are not emoticons
a 
may be ironic
but it will never replace my memory of smiling while I was in his presence
and :-* won’t replace the taste of his mouth
stupid feeling messy complicated flesh world
my 2000 friends aren’t really here to open their arms and pull me close and tell me everything is going to be okay
he won’t post a sign
when did he link to her instead?
yet I continue to publish my shattered ego over and over again
read in several continents
i’m sure they’ll love me more for it
but he won’t
his flesh and blood self is tangled in her real arms
while I send my messages off to be read from afar
I just want to be touched again
really touched
not poked or messaged or emailed
touched
I want those arms to be mine and the tangles to wrap me up
he said he wanted his freedom, but gave me mine instead
his freedom was only from me
the man who related more to his machine than my body is using his body to heal
and i’m left with my machine
[tara hunt feb 17 08]
19 Comments
Thank you for your honesty and courage. You make it possible for the rest of us.
Wow. Good emotions, good writing!
You’re tough stuff, Miss Rogue. And you’re doing the right things. Hang in there!
I guess it’s called irony — all the comments that will inevitably show up here. Anyhoo, since you are on an island far away and I’m in the mountains, this will have to do for now:
/——-HUG——-/
Tara, your courage is an inspiration. It takes some serious guts to publish your feelings like that. Just wanted to let you know - you rock! Hang in there
Just remembered…..Lilikoi Lemonade. THAT’S what it was called. As alcoholically dizzying as a lemon drop - sweet, sassy, and sharp. Just like you Miss T.
Hang in there!
Hang in there Tara …. you’ll do well!
love reading your words, but would like even more to give you a big hug before you leave the island, because it is all going to be okay. it’s already okay.
beyond machines and flesh, there is ultimate comfort. the sun and sea and spirit of aloha are already embracing you.
The only thing that ever fooled a broken heart long enough for me to feel any relief was to dance. Turn on the music, preferably some booty-shakin’, soul-savin’ gospel, and get down.
I think you are so brave. I would have run far far away. If you feel like you need actual distance from all of this, there is a futon and a hug waiting for you in Salt Lake City.
Sending good karma your way.
Been reading your work for a while. I know how lonely it might be, but it’s moments like these that opportunities present themselves. Life’s fun when there are more chapters.
You’re as brave as you are eloquent. I’m glad you’re finally letting some of this out. Keeping it in tends to make it worse.
We might not all be right there to help you pick up your broken pieces, but you truly aren’t alone.
You are awesome Tara.
I’ve been there too but I got to say I would never have the courage to show my feelings for everyone to see… including him.
I admire you tremendously.
There is nothing else to do… just wait.
Things will improve.
Thanks for all that you do.
I’ve been reading your blog off an on for a couple of years. I am sorry for your pain. It must feel like sudden death. It is hard for you and your son too. Remember to focus on his needs too. This will help you get through your changes. He will need a loving hand.
**hugs** everything will be okay
My goodness.
I was just following up on the customer service
conference from a couple of weeks ago, and
checking back into the social capital discussion…
There is serendipity here, of sorts. Giving
without any expectation of return is a wonderful
deposit of social capital regardless of
context. Whether of work, or play, or romance or love
(romance and love are not the same you know),
giving freely allows our hearts to grow
without bound.
And heart’s growth seems always hand in hand with
such bittersweet emotional pain.
Tara -
A friend here in DC just sent me this pic you took of me a few years back at DrupalCamp, which brought me here and to the news of your breakup. On the few occasions we’ve met I always found you and Chris kind and approachable, but on the net I let the image of the “web 2.0 power couple” intimidate me from staying in touch. Just wanted to let you know that the realness of you expressing your feelings (especially this poem) has pierced that veil for me and reminded me that we are all flesh, blood, heart, and guts, and are connected in much deeper and subtler ways than by twitter and all the rest.
Thanks for your courage and vulnerability. I hope you’ll continue to find your strength (as it seems you already have) in the courage to just experience what’s happening emotionally moment by moment, without judging, justifying, analyzing, or needing to make it different than it is.
* big hug *
It’s been so long. Know that I cried with you from afar, when sweet Ringo died. I had a baby over a year ago, and wanted to reach back to you, but felt like there was no place left for our friendship in your busy life. You came and left, we lost touch, like friends in shift do. It’s been so long, we don’t really know each other any more.
And yet I remember your tender heart, hidden in a fierce shell, and pray that it’s not too broken by this.
Chris has been good for you, I can see that even from afar. I’ve come to realize that the person you choose to be with is a direct reflection of how you see yourself. Leaving that person means something. Cry for who you were with him, but you’re not that person anymore. Change is good. Hope that’s not too Oprah…
In truth, I hate adding my voice to the crowd, but I can hear your hurt, and wanted to let you know that I look in on you from time to time, to make sure you’re okay. I don’t know if that means anything, but I hope so. I was there when this Rogue was born, but I know you’re still Tara.
Take care sweet girl.
Wow, this is really really powerful, Tara.
Alex