Welcome To My Creative Space
Today and only today,
I agree, I’m choosing to explore,
What it’s like to feel the tremors and do it anyway.
I’m willing to make room for more.
Tonight and only tonight,
I’ll confess, I’m scared.
It’s true that I’ll voluntarily fight,
For a connection that remains undeclared.
This moment and only in this moment,
I’ll admit that I waltz around the concept of fate,
Being the single unifying component.
As I pop my ego and watch it deflate.
A.
There’s something about your arms that feels so familiar.
The way they wrap around my physical form,
Firm, yet gentle.
And when they pull me into what was once considered personal space,
It’s caring, it’s protective.
It’s like I’ve been here before,
Like you were once my home.
There’s something about your face that feels so familiar.
The way your eyes dart around the room,
Before gleefully landing on mine.
And when your lips curve upwards,
I get to experience what is now my favourite smile.
It’s like you’ve been here before,
Like I was once your friend.
There’s something about these emotions that feels so familiar.
It’s in the way my heart beats to the rhythm that my soul joyfully dances to.
It’s in the way that my spirit welcomes current thoughts of you,
Future thoughts of us.
So, when you say that this feels right,
I don’t attempt to put up a fight,
Because, It’s like we’ve been here before,
Like we once shared love in a different lifetime.
A.
I’m back again,
Creating literary pieces of art
While everything within and around me falls apart.
I’m back to being inspired by pain.
A.
When I write about past experiences,
I hope that no one notices.
And when references are made to moments that I cherish forever,
I speak temporary memory loss into past lovers.
The same kind that made you forget my worth,
The same kind that allowed you neglect sacrifices made and emotions brought forth.
I speak a lack of care,
In instances where the mind is aware.
That you remember but are nonchalant.
So I can write without withholding,
Information capable of causing a spiritual uproar.
A.
Lately I’ve been avoiding writing,
Just like I avoid reminiscing.
Just like I avoid falling…
Deep into a state of love.
Deep into a sea of vulnerability.
I’m afraid it’ll take away my perceived mental stability.
Force me to think intricately,
About the decisions I make today and the day after.
I mean, was that a closed chapter?
Or is this to makeup for the leftovers?
So, I’ve been avoiding writing,
Just like I avoid starting over.
Just like I avoid being sober.
It’s not the train of thoughts that scare me,
It’s the possibility of clarity,
A conclusion I’m not ready to accept yet.
A
There are butterflies in your belly,
But you act surprised,
And that amuses me.
Did you forget?
Maybe hope that things would change?
Because you didn’t,
And neither did she.
But you act surprised,
And that amuses me.
Your cheeks hurt from smiling,
And your abs from laughing,
But you act surprised,
And that amuses me.
When did you think his jokes would stop being funny?
Or perhaps, time would alter your sense of humour?
It’s why you stayed away for so long,
But you act surprised,
And that amuses me.
All packed up and more than eager to go down memory lane.
It was your reality,
Your safe space,
Your hideaway even when life was beautiful.
It makes sense when you continuously make pitstops as you journey through nostalgia,
It helps with elongated encounters,
But 24 hours would never be enough time.
Not for you, not for them.
But you still act surprised,
And that amuses me.
A.
Incase we don’t have tomorrow,
I want you to know
Today is the best day of my life
Simply because I know you exist
In a space where I can call home.
A
A paintbrush and some water
That’s all I need,
All I ask for.
A paintbrush and some water,
That’s all I require
To explain what’s stirring up in my heart,
To map out my desire.
My happiness, my joy
My god sent golden boy.
A paintbrush and some water,
To draw lines both bent and straight,
To represent paths crossed,
Beliefs intertwined,
Lips interlocked.
A paintbrush and some water,
Because this radiates colour.
Bold, Vibrant,
But nobody has to know,
Nobody deserves to see what I see.
So I dip my paintbrush in some water,
And start on this blank canvas.
There’s lines and curves,
Patches more soaked than the others.
It’s beautiful to me,
It’s colourful to me.
No one else needs to see the illumination I feel,
Not from up close, not from far away,
No one else needs to confirm,
Or reject or challenge,
Not to my face, not when I turn away.
When I dip my paintbrush in some water,
And let loose on this beautiful canvas,
All that matters is what I see.
It’s not just white cloth soaked in transparent moisture,
I see patterns and precision,
I see patience and passion,
I see colours,
I see you.
A.
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.
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.
Akunna Ezekwem 