Misconstrued.

They speak of love like a force,
An entity of its own,
Enveloping mere mortals.
Possessing them,
Taking over in ways that failed to appeal to me,
And I believed.
But this,
This is nothing like I envisioned.
This is soothing,
Like cool breeze on a warm summer’s night.
Calming,
Like a drag of Mary J’s finest rolls.
Comforting,
Like your arms around me on my worst days.
This is simple,
Like nothing I have known before.
I don’t want to jump or scream or shout,
There is no urge to go crazy or lose my mind,
Not in anger, not it dismay.
Thoughts of you occupy my mind but not in a forceful way,
It’s beautiful, it’s easy
It’s the best thing I’ve experienced thus far.

Where has this been all my life?
Where have you been all my life?

A.

Living With An Emotional Deficiency – V.

V.

It’s not about you,
Never been, never will be.
I know you secretly wonder if I was the same way with him,
Yes.
Worse.
But for you, I tried,
To unpeel myself from the wall,
Etched in closer till our personal space overlapped.
I practiced hugs which weren’t identical to two sumo wrestlers coming together to pull their limbs out,
Spoke about things that destroyed me, past and present,
Until I felt a prick in the back of my eyes,
Salt water trails crawling down my throat.
It stung, it hurt,
It was tears that I couldn’t cry.
Because if I start now, when would this emotional cascade end?
I have a lifetime of unspoken trauma,
I’m afraid it could kill me.
Afraid I would die without knowing life outside of these emotional constraints.

A.

Living With An Emotional Deficiency – IV.

IV.

I guess if I wasn’t so broken,
I would enjoy hugs.
They’re sickeningly invasive,
uncomfortably restrictive.
A gesture which intellectuals should have eradicated years ago.
Yet, it’s oddly satisfying…for half a second.
But for you, I endure.

A.

Living With An Emotional Deficiency – III

III.

If you promise to hear me out, I’ll explain,
Why emotional responses are unhurried.
Why I’m numb and expressionless initially.
Truth is, I’m not cold.
It just takes me time to recollect all my memories of similar incidents I’ve encountered,
In movies, tv shows, novels and friends.
I sift through the emotions they expressed,
Create a combination of all of them and choose that to show,
While crossing my fingers,
Hoping to God that’s the appropriate reaction.

Would you tell me if it’s not?

A.

Living With An Emotional Deficiency – I.

I.

How best can I explain,
That I struggle with vulnerability,
Like people struggle with addiction.
There are days I cry about my inability to connect,
About ‘dismissal’ being my immediate response.
I hurt when my body jerks back once in contact with another,
Knowing it is impossible for mammals to survive without body contact.

But how do I change this?

A.

Talentless.

I once created literary art,
With blood drawn from my broken heart.
The words flowed endlessly,
How could it not?
With an abundance crimson fluid gushing out uncontrollably,
As the cracks in my poor love centre elongated.
Because of this, I was declared a lyricist in her prime.
But I have watched my creativity sublime,
As depression slowly evades me this body that I call mine.
It’s over now.
My heart no longer beats a tune which negativity dances to.
I don’t feel the weight of the world on my shoulders,
I don’t hear the crushing sounds of my hopes and dreams falling apart.
I don’t know what else to write about.

A.

Just Afraid.

You try to be the best I’ve ever had,
But that doesn’t take much effort.
You don’t know that,
And I’ll never mention it.
Not my experience with abuse,
Not the insecurities bound to oxygen, flowing through my veins.
I’m afraid you’ll be inspired,
Afraid you’d come up with new methods of breaking my heart,
Tearing me down,
Stripping me of my self worth.
Like I’ve had with those that came before,
Like I’m used to.

A.

Way Too Many Feels.

It’s the first time in a long time
But I feel lonely again
Like my soul has escaped my body
In pursuit of you, of anybody
Willing to love me
I feel empty.

Like the surrounding spirits evaporated
Leaving me unsheltered from the cold
Unable to hold down my own
I feel helpless.

Like my mind is willing
But this flesh is weak
It nudges me towards destruction
In the arms of a love I could never accept
Yet I allow it to comfort me
I feel stuck.

A.

Make It Make Sense.

According to physics, roses are red,
Just like the skies are blue.
But blue isn’t just the warmest colour,
It’s your favourite colour.
And oud amber isn’t just the sultriest smell,
It’s your signature scent.
Your aura, your being,
My memories still alive and breathing.
How can I lay in bed without thinking?
With stars above me,
A representation of your creativity.
My favourite wine at the cornershop
Sits right next to magnum
Like you sit right next to me,
In my heart.
I can’t use Cameroon pepper without giggling,
Can’t entertain thoughts of you without smiling.
I do dumb shit like I toast bread in my frying pan
Even though I don’t like bread
And I don’t like toast,
I like doing thing that remind me of then .
Like trying out recipes that don’t exist beyond the scope of caucasianism.
Because this was the epitome of happiness,
In the midst of my depression.
So why does it feel like regret?

A.