Blank Canvas.

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.

Bagels And Sriracha Sauce – II.

Adaptation is your number one enemy,
But you would master her.
You would learn not to flinch when he raises his hand,
Because unlike the previous, these hands descend gently,
Not with anger, with love and affection.
You would learn that these walls only enclose you,
From experiences created for your enjoyment,
You would learn to listen and believe,
Not everyone is out to get you,
Not every man is there to betray.
It is okay to open up,
It is okay to get to be understood.
That’s normal and that’s healthy,
In an environment built on mutual interest.
Most of all, you would learn to stop being ashamed.
Only you know why you flinch and cross your arms.
Why you take a step back and speak through clenched jaws.
You learned to protect yourself during a downpour of darts,
And you would unlearn it to permit love to enter,
But you would not be ashamed.

A.

Bagels And Sriracha Sauce – I.

In time, you would find a man,

Whose body familiarises itself with yours,

And urges him to wake up,

10 minutes before yours does.

A man who crawls out of bed so quietly ,

Just to fix you breakfast.

It’s bagels, eggs, avocado and sriracha sauce,

You hate 4 out of 4 of those items.

But you love it,

Because you love him,

And that would never change.

A blessing and a curse.

A.

Don’t Love Me, I’m A Writer.

Please don’t touch my soul,
Not with those hands, black as coal.
As I would relive every single moment,
For years on end.
And in my poetry, you would see your name,
Like it was mine to reinvent.

Our memories would stay trapped in my heart ,
As I am dramatic; an exclamation mark enveloped in mortal skin.
So I would turn our love experience into a hundred different stories told to the world,
I refuse to keep it hidden.

I would find a way to describe you
Your smile, humour, wit;
With as many nouns and adjectives as the dictionary permits.
I would paint pictures of your eye watering physique,
So engulfed in your masculinity, my legs felt weak.

I would throw in hints of past times indicating nostalgia,
Hormones burned hot, even our drinks were up in flames.
I would throw in inside jokes;
Mostly dry and somewhat impenetrable,
While reinstating that it’s a me problem.

I would drag our few seconds of love for as long as I can manage:
For as long as my heart can endure
Because the moment I begin to lose my memories,
I lose my melodies.
I’ll have no stories to tell, no inspiration,
No paintings to create, no blood drawn illustrations,
No poetry.

So please, leave your mark on me but not painfully.

A.

The 8th of May.

The first time I wrote a post titled the 8th of May was on the first day of my first ever relationship. It was one of the most unconventional events ever and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it so, I ended up writing something sad which I would link HERE. I was 17, uninterested in boys or feelings or commitment but I wanted to prove to myself that I could succeed at being in a relationship. I could succeed at anything. So, I got into a situation with someone I didn’t feel a thing for because hey, we can learn to love anybody right? That is absolutely right but, it is also one of the least smartest decisions I have ever made and for the wrong reasons as well.

 

Wouldn’t this be an exciting post if I spoke about all the horrible experiences I went through? Tempting but, I only do that with my girlies when we’re laughing at the dumb shit we’ve done for guys. Opening up is a lot easier when it’s for banter. Also, I generally don’t talk about certain things because my coping mechanism involves not processing the bad situations that I have been in. They just get pushed to the back of my head where my other semi forgotten memories live. That way, I can’t speak about something that I haven’t even thought about yet.

 

It’s been four months since I walked away. Four months since I took my leash off and ran astray. How poetic, four months before the big four year anniversary and I’m still anticipating the day I break down. You know, mourn the end of my love experience. Have the ‘My life is a mess, I am so depressed and nobody would ever love me’ kind of cry. The tears that bring you down to your knees, head on the floor and arms wrapped tightly around your belly because it hurts all over and there’s no one else to hold you. The sort of tears that keep flowing, it seems like they’ll never stop. These moments where you just shout inaudible gibberish because you can barely process your thoughts let alone make sense out of them. There’s no real reason for these tears. It’s a combination of different events that happened over the years so you feel stupid and weak and helpless and that makes you cry even more. Y’all know the feel? No? Well this is awkward.

 

This whole thing is new to me because my idea of post-breakup life was very different to what’s actually occurring. I had assumed I’d be somewhat upset. Probably running into the arms of men who don’t deserve me, aiming to elicit some sort of comfort. I was really scared of becoming that woman who couldn’t wait for a man to ask ‘are you okay’ because that would be just another opportunity to speak about all the pain I’ve been through. Maybe break down so he could see my vulnerability and want to love me for that.

 

Regardless of how distant I sound about my previous situation, I acknowledge the ways in which it has changed me as a person…like every experience tends to. So far, I have successfully pushed away anybody who seems like they have intentions of staying in my life for an extended period of time especially if I like them or connect with them on a different level. I have become extremely dismissive and difficult in so many aspects. I have managed to singlehandedly build up this impenetrable wall that’s supposed to protect me from the men that are scum but it keeps me guarded when I don’t have to be.

 

The worst change yet is my inability to stop myself from reacting to certain statements. So for example, say I was married to a man who simultaneously called me ‘stupid’ while beating me. I would always have a negative reaction to anyone who says ‘stupid’ or anything that remotely sounds like it around me whether it was intended to be a joke or not. So, for me right now, I cannot handle certain statements that sound like something I was used to hearing for negative reasons and that’s made so defensive. I’m so quick to say “what do you mean by that?” in the fiercest way possible. Or I keep quiet and make mental notes. This sucks because sometimes, I know that’s not what said person means mais, ce la vie.

 

Anyway, that summarises the boring aspects of my newly single experience. If I was to pick a song to describe where my head’s at, I’d pick ‘Give me something – Emeli Sande’. The part where she said “see I just want to feel, I mean really really feel it all” is me right now. Nonetheless, I am significantly happier and I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world.

 

The first time I wrote a post titled the 8th of May was on the first day of my first ever relationship. So I thought it was only right to write a second one to commemorate the end. Happy bye-nniversary Dawg.

 

What was your breakup experience like?

 

Partially Guarded A

x

A Letter To My Main And Side Chick. 

You both win
I’ve tried my best, to say what I mean
But this is my guess, you both have what I need.

The sleepless nights tire me,
I can’t seem to catch a breath
I need you both entirely,
But maybe it’s all in my head.

One is dark and one is light,
I like the danger but need the safety
This is true, however trite
I find the contrast very tasty.

I love you and I love you too
I care and that counts
Call me selfish or greet me with a boo
But in the end I have no doubts.

Am I crazy? Am I really?
Am I wrong for entertaining repressed desires?
Look me in the eye and tell me the truth,
You would do the same if it was you.

Maybe I am, because I can’t make choices
I’m drinking , my head filled with both your voices.

Maybe we can make it work
You both in my arms all at once
No, I’m crazy, you’ll be the laughing stock
But I can’t push away the thoughts.

You don’t get to choose
So in the end you’re the winners
But if you ask me in this mood
I’m willing, to die a sinner.

Miz.

A Letter To My Lover’s Main Chick. 

You win
If you haven’t yet figured it out,
I’m telling you that without a doubt,
You win.

Twelve am in the morning
And I find myself roaming
Fighting to stay awake
Incase he decides to show up before day break.

On the nights that I have him
I fight to ignore your expensive scent
Overwhelming and pungent
Your image creeps into my dreams.

Each ‘I love you’ as fake as the previous
Does he mean it when he says it to you?
I’m a little bit curious
This false love is long overdue.

It’s nothing but quick texts
A few hello’s and goodbye’s
But mostly ‘are you available for me to drive by?’
I’m only good enough for meaningless sex.

This man would never be mine
And I accept my defeat
His love for you is so pure, words cannot define
I’m sorry for causing your husband to cheat.

I said it before but I’ll say it again
In this game of love and infidelity
His vows to you were not in vain
I hope that you enjoy your new found serenity.

You win.
A.

A Letter To My Lover’s Side Chick

You win
Not when I’m out and you’re in
You win
If I’m not successful without him.

Empty bed all night
He’s snuck out to meet you
Why should I fight?
Now I’ve got space for two.

Home from work
Your cheap cologne in the air
Frightened cause I don’t give a fuck
But your smell is my burden to bear.

Walking on eggshells
To pick up your calls
His eyes filled with fear
Especially when we are at the mall.

He’s leaving me
Your greatest achievement
But you’ll always only be
His second placement.

He said he loves you
He told me that too
How many others
Do you think he’s said that to?

He’s all yours
If he’s stupid enough to go
But please be cautious
He’ll do this to you also.

You win
But this wasn’t even a competition
You can have everything
Including his lying and cheating obsession.

KCO III.