Part I
You were broken. Your brokenness broke me.
My eyes leaked more than once, trying to fathom such losses.
I read your pains, as you publicly mourned your distress, hoping that writing was good therapy for you.
How could I not reach out? I had loss, too. I never even got to share all of my loss, but that\'s for later.
Your hand reached me, begging to know how I could have tasted a similar pain.
Two damaged hearts, devastated by unspeakable circumstances; surely the one could speak light to the other that was still so openly bleeding!
A special friendship blossomed. Funny quips and sarcastic wit, charming and chivalrous, even asking permission of my husband to be my friend and speak to me. That was honesty and accountability that I could tip my hat to, because this Bumpkin doesn\'t play.
Lots of messages.
But that\'s okay. I understand loneliness. I understand pain.
I revised my \"angelsmoke\" poem, special for you. You said she died in August, and her eyes were hazel green. Other people had written you poems, too. They broke for you like I did. Respected you. You asked me if I had ever seen a cowboy cry.
That lonely person just wanted a pen pal. A text buddy. Someone to talk to. Maybe I didn\'t have time for that, being a mother and a wife, he said. Maybe a single friend could fill the space, he asked.
Hours of phone calls. At first, ok. I understand loneliness. I understand pain.
PART II
I asked my single friend if she was looking for a special project, my friend\'s words, not mine.
No. Not even close. Her heart\'s too tired. Too tired for a pen pal. No special project. No internet men.
I continue to speak to my broken hearted friend. My ears open, mouth closed mostly. I figured he just had lots to say, bleeding so openly of two daughters gone, two wives, too. I\'m sorry my single friend doesn\'t want to talk to you. By the way I\'ve noticed whenever someone else is in pain, you bring it back to you.
Lots of messages. Rapid fire. Dozens.
My friend is speaking to many women. He says he\'s still lonely. Really wants to talk to my single friend. He believes she needs convinced. She only says no because she doesn\'t understand how he can fix her. How she can fill him. He writes her a poem. Asks me to ask again.
Lots of messages. Rapid fire. Dozens. Daily. Phone calls.
His grieving heart fills with fantasies of a relationship with her. Asks many questions about her life. I tell him some about her. Big mistake. How does he have the time to do all of this, with so many horses and children and grandkids. Besides, he\'s romanced two women just two weeks apart. Gosh, one has fallen off the map. Now he\'s hitting on someone else...
Lots of messages. Rapid fire. Dozens. Daily. Demands phone calls. He\'s maxed out his messages.
I\'m starting to not understand this loneliness. To not understand this pain.
PART III
She said no. No really, my single friend said no. I have to get off the phone. No really, I have to get off the phone. You can\'t \"fix\" her. She doesn\'t want to talk to you! Another woman off the site. What am I going to do?
Lots of messages. Rapid fire. Dozens. Daily. I HAVE to call, he WON\'T wait. Please stop leaving comments on my poems for me to erase!
I\'m sorry the other lady said she was through. I\'m sorry she said you were forcing yourself on her, and that her kids said it, too. I\'m sorry but I will not ask my single friend AGAIN about you! Stop saying you will drive yourself off a cliff! I hate that you\'re hurting, but why would you hurt ME that way? If you really end your life, what will I say?
I\'m scared of this loneliness. Scared of this pain.
PART IV
Do NOT put an ad for my single friend in our local paper. You will scare her to death. No, that\'s not a sweet gesture, that\'s freaky stalker stuff. No I will not help with that, I\'ve had enough. Oh good, he says I know her best. He\'s decided to just give it a rest. I hope he relaxes. I\'m still thinking about that cliff, so I pray. Notice he\'s on here nearly hour on the hour, every single day.
Choking on messages, about to give up.
You say you got a text from a NC girl, thought I had come through, convinced my friend to talk to you. No friend, she said no twice remember? He says this one\'s a cowboy groupie, does what he does interest women so much? I tell him maybe there aren\'t many cowboys that are in touch with their feelings. That\'s cute, but wait... did he just say he placed the damned ad?!
Now I\'m just scared. Angry. Messages in my face.
He jokes about the newspaper lady\'s thick southern drawl. I\'m about to throw up. All boundaries crossed. I must end this all. He tells me he\'s desperate, he\'s about to blow his brains out. Manipulations, abuse...this is a song I\'ve heard before. He expects me to show it to her, calls her a line to a drowning man...he doesn\'t even know what she looks like...
Just scared and he won\'t stop he says
I think he\'s not good enough I
offered water to a drowning man I
tried to sell her to him and then expected him not to buy I
am wrong about him I
don\'t think his religious beliefs make him good enough I
have said awful things about him I
insinuate worse I
gave him no option I
now feel lonely. I am in pain.
PART V
Backhanded apologies, insinuating MY wrong.
I\'m hurt. I\'m tired. I can\'t comprehend. What happened to my broken hearted pard, my friend?
Insults. My little Appalachian hill folk clan. Dirt bag. Rat. Picking on my faith through fusions. Backhanded comments. I think I\'m better than WHO?
Blocked. Didn\'t do any good. He made a new profile to continue this ruse.
Curious... some things don\'t add up. How could I not see? Maybe I\'m wrong. Maybe it\'s just me.
Could I have been so blind? Narcissist traits...thinking of oneself as a hero, a one-of-a-kind special person, self important, always brings everything back around to them, believes others can\'t survive without his magnificent contribution, the \"it\'s all about me\" syndrome, the problem is always with you, deny responsibility, make others feel confused, keep them off balance, requires excessive admiration and works hard to get that by enforcing his uniqueness and super flattery...
Google next. Image search. He may own horses, but these do not belong to him. Really feeling stupid about my pard, my friend. Stock images of horses. Alaska, too. Searching for more, hoping it\'s not true.
That awesome Charger, and what\'s under the hood. Lead me to the sites where he posted it for sale. I thought he adored it. Oh well...I have an address and names.
Furious. I died inside over his losses. I know I\'m not alone in that. What the hell do you mean his first wife is alive and posting on facebook??? And why is his daughter tweeting about being the child of a narcissistic parent, and how the JW\'s cover up abuse? He posted on a previous poetry site before. He said Michelle was 28 and his mom died? Wait...here\'s an article about an accident says she was 21 in 2014 and he was 56? He said 50. Then 56. He\'s 59. What is truth anymore!
That wasn\'t my pard riding that horse! It was a still shot from youtube, of course! My heart can\'t take it anymore. FURIOUS! FURIOUS!!
Today he posts a photo of cremains in a postal package. I blow that image up. April and July dates? Who was that? He said she died in August, and was dreading the upcoming anniversary of that death. Remember my poem? What is truth ? He said I had dodged a question. He\'s dodged a few.
Reader, I do not know him. I guess I never knew.
But now I have made either friend or enemy of you.
This is my truth.
Check for yourself, as you see fit.
He will have a ready answer. I guarantee it.