My Song...

All my lyrics have left me,

That's what they all do,

Every part of me has known you,

I try to wash it away but the stain will stay

All my beats scream out your name,

Your tune is all I am left to hum.

The dance I once thought would wrap you around my side,

Never to stray and leave me stained,

Is now a solo performance I am yet to master.

I was never much of a dancer,

I sang,

All I do is scream now.

My voice won't be loud enough to reach your blocked heart

Cold as ice.

My fingers seemed to help you get in tune.

Your strings longed for thine touch

You locked yours in mine and we knew we'd sing forever and a day.

But I lost my voice,

And my tune no longer excites you,

Noise you now call it.

I've started singing again, because someone's hurting me.

We Pulled The Plug...

I was working the night shift when my phone rang.

It had been a crazy night.

Tuesdays were always relatively calm, but somehow this one was different.

 

And I was beyond exhausted.

 

You'd think Nursing school would have taught me a thing or two, but not even the 10 years under my belt could get me ready for tight Tuesdays such as these.

I never have my phone on me.

Plus the scrubs I wore that night had no deep pockets.

The truth, however, was the fact that if I did have my phone on me, I would keep checking it.

Checking the signal and the Internet connection.

Wondering why Eliud was not reaching out.

We'd been fighting a lot lately.

It felt like he was slipping away.

Three times we pulled the plug.

Twice by me and the third by him.

Somehow we always found ourselves together again.

Out of my many needs that made me weak, I wanted to be wanted. And he wanted me. Eliud wanted me.

 

The thing about him and I, we thought we were quitters, but we were fighters.

We had been told by so many people, people we cared about, that we couldn't, wouldn't make it.

And because of that, we believed it.

Truth is, we thought we'd stopped fighting, but we never did.

We were fighters, who maybe didn't believe in their strengths, but we fought alright, to find our ways back to the intimacy we had never known with any other.

We wanted each other.

I walked out phone in hand, face hanging low, staring at my pink crocs.

 

Who would I be without my insecurities?

The only reason I took them pink crocs was because they came with a Scooby-Doo tag.

 

He said I am a child at heart for loving Scooby-Doo.

I'm not a pink kinda girl. But for Scooby-Doo, I will be that kinda girl.

My phone rang.

Eliud was calling.

 

It had been four days, 13 hours and some minutes, I guess.

 

Long enough to make anyone pull the plug.

 

I must have been staring too long because it stopped ringing.

 

I kept walking towards the Exit.

 

I was almost getting to my car when I heard a familiar voice, "Shii".

 

Nobody else ever called me Shii. Short for Sheila.

 

Right there, at the hospital parking bay.

He knew my spot.

We'd been down there enough times.

 

But it had been four days, 13 hours and some minutes, I guess.

 

Long enough to make anyone pull the plug.

Many times we would be getting to know each other better at the back seat of his car.

One time he had me right on top of his bonnet.

 

I must have been exhausted. First the phone ringing and not picking up, or standing there, almost paralysed at the sound of his voice.

 

"Ca-Can I drive you home? You look tired," went the voice again.

 

I turned to look at him for the first time, adjusting my glasses with my middle finger.

 

He was a sight to behold.

 

It would take a lot of strength to not run to him and kiss the parking bay cold away, and tell him how bad I'd missed him.

 

It indeed would take a lot of strength. And I am a strong woman.

 

"Hi"

 

I finally said something, swallowing hard.

 

"I wasn't sure I'd catch you. I wasn't even sure you'd be working tonight."

 

"I'm always working."

 

"Yeah, I know..."

 

"But you just said you didn't know...I'm sorry".

 

There I went again, apologising for things I said. 

 

Apologising for expressing myself. I hated it. I hated feeling gagged. 

 

I never knew how to hold back. 

 

I wanted to be heard. I wanted to be heard by him.

 

I hugged him.

 

Wrapped my tired arms around his neck.

 

He wrapped one arm around my waist, and the other came up to my shoulder.

 

In that embrace, we shared emotions we hadn't let out in a while.

 

It had been four days, 13 hours and some minutes, I guess.

 

Long enough to make anyone pull the plug.

 

His house was closer, so we headed there. In his car.

 

I was grateful for the short ride because even though we had missed each other, we had grown distant.

 

I wanted him, but maybe I didn't.

 

The crocs were the first to go.

 

I wanted something loose, looser than scrubs that had seen spit and vomit.

 

He offered to fix dinner, a pleasant surprise.

 

In his Tee and nothing underneath, I poured myself a glass of wine and headed to the balcony.

 

I stared at the traffic from the fifth floor of his apartment building, the smell of oregano chicken killing me softly. A death I was enjoying, washed down with the chilled wine.

I could smell him.

I could feel him stare at my calves. 

 

He came closer, wrapped his arms around me, pulled me close to him.

 

"You're cold."

 

"No, you're warm. And you smell like chicken."

 

I turned to look at him. Wine glass still in hand.

 

I stared up at him,

 

I remembered the last time we were here, this close.

 

It had been four days, 13 hours and some minutes, I guess.

 

Long enough to make anyone pull the plug.

 

We'd been fighting a lot lately.

He'd said a lot of things, but the hardest to accept, was the fact that he'd be leaving for Waterkloof.

 

Suddenly he didn't have much to say anymore.

 

Eliud took the wine glass from me.

"Did you miss me?"

Did I miss him? I thought about him all day, sometimes all night.

"No. Did you?"

"Why you wanna hurt me like that?"

 

I couldn't bear the thought of being further. Not filling my arms with his huge frame.

I called him a man blanket. He fought the cold just fine.

Nobody made me feel as light as he did.

My petit body was nothing for him. I didn't worry about the weight outside, but that which we knew was happening but had little strength to face, and perhaps fight.

The sky was falling, and I was losing the man I had loved for 13 years.

It felt like I had known him for 13 days.

 

But we had been fighting a lot lately.

 

It had been four days, 13 hours and some minutes, I guess.

 

Long enough to make anyone pull the plug.

 

In those last 13 minutes, all I had known was poured out of him and inside me.

 

I knew I didn't want to fight anymore.

 

It was 13 minutes to seven. I called my supervisor. I was going to Waterkloof.

Black veil bride

Here stands a bride,

From days gone by.

She still stands,

Bouquet in hand,

Veil undrawn.

She hangs her head,

Afraid that if she looks up,

Reality may hit her harder than she can handle.

She looks through the dark veil.

Dark.

Black.

Nothing but sorrow.

She has seen,

Smelled, 

Tasted,

Touched the white veil.

Oh she has loved it.

Here stands,

A bride whose perfect love,

Will cause you nothing but turmoil,

Demons you know not how to fight,

Voices you will not be able to shut,

No matter how hard you try.

Her love,

Though thought pure,

Eats at you,

Smile after smile,

Turned into ache after ache.

Kisses,

Turned into nothing but dust.

Breaks you,

Rips you apart,

Like the thorns in her flower.

You will drink from her fountain,

But your thirst will choke you.

She will embrace you,

But suffocate you.

Touch you,

But scar you.

Shield you,

But stab you.

Here stands a bride of days gone by,

No warm smile,

All that's left,

Heart as cold as stone. 

Lipstick and Bullets...

Can I call you darling?

 

It's the thoughts of how it would make you feel that keep me going.

 

I don't know if you'd allow me to,

 

But be kind to me, my darling.

 

It's in your touch,

 

It's in the way I miss you,

 

The way I want you.

 

I've been wanting you a long time,

 

But my tongue wouldn't let it slip away.

 

My lips are bound with the oath I have taken for another.

 

I am spoken for.

 

And I hate nothing more, 

 

Than to think of another, 

 

In your mind as much as you in mine.

 

I lie.

 

I long for what's not mine.

 

I lay down and dream of scenes that would never come to be.

 

You see.

 

But I wouldn't allow myself to taste the thoughts of you,

 

Because every time I am not with you,

 

Is like my lips turned into a gun.

 

The breath of you that would bring me back to life,

Takes it away with one shot, 

By the bullet that is your tender touch.

It's in the sound of your voice,

A sound so loud, yet velvet soft,

 

One word and I'm wrapped,

Forever longing to be called yours.

It's in your eyes, my darling. 

Can I call you that? 

When my hands are not on you they feel empty, 

Wrapped around you they feel full,

Filled with nothing but the longing of death by your bullet. 

I'm In Love With A Stranger

I’m in love with a stranger.

He acts like he doesn’t know, but I bet he does.

I know because he has touched me.

I also know because I lost my breath the moment he did.

I’m in love with a stranger who seems to hate the sound of my name.

I know because he only equates my presence to the taste of the sweet water on his tongue on a hot day,

Never quite calls my name,

What he will prefer will be as soothing as the sound of the ocean waves hitting the rocks, against the setting of the sun,

What is the setting sun compared to the flame in his eyes?

On a day as bright as this I long for the darkness,

It is the only way he will come to me, embrace me as I embrace him.

I’m in love with a stranger who attends to my calls for a touch as firm as his, on skin as soft as mine.

His arms, strong like the baobab tree,

His chest, one I will lay my head on and pray to the gods of passion.

I have known love, because my heart has beat to the beats of his.

It’s not every day I find my tongue longing for a taste of him, 

But on a night like this, I can only imagine.

His thoughts challenge me, outwitting my every move, even when I want to think I have him open like a book.

I am in love with a man whose strange ways to show me love keep me rooted.  

I Mourn For Me

With every heart break,

I tell myself I'll get better with time,

But the real me sits on the shelf,

While I present you a version of the girl who believed,

In your warmth

And tight embrace.

I look back at who I have become.

A sorry state of the girl I used to know.

Oh I'm perfect.

 I fit the description you have set for me.

You broke my heart again,

With empty promises of change.

I sit here,

In the dark because the light burns me.

I've become accustomed to being the lie you taught me to be,

Made me,

All that's left is to mourn,

Cry out for the girl I used to be,

Whose body lies on the top shelf,

Gathering dust as I sit here,

In this darkness, wet from tears you poured out of me.

DEPRESSION: Welcome Home ...

 

I sat on the edge of the seat

It was 8pm.

He comes home at 8pm.

I clutch on the baby and with every movement I hear around the gate, secretly hope it's him.

First disturbance, not him.

Second, still not him.

I give up, telling myself he'll come when he'll come.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three times, like he always does.

I have this anxiety I cannot explain.

And to fix it, he promised he would always knock three times, so I know it's him.

I can't jump to the door, he'll know I was holding my breath.

But what's wrong with him knowing that?

There I go again, fighting my anxiety with more anxiety.

He's home.

I keep clutching on the baby, really fighting this anxiety.

He puts his load down, and looks at me.

I am avoiding eye contact.

I can't hide this excitement

Unless I look away.

I am looking away.

I can smell the fresh bread he brought.

I love freshly baked bread.

He notices I ignored him, and instead takes the baby away.

My arms are empty.

What will hide my anxiety now?

The glasses.

Thank God for my tinted glasses.

I adjust them, and my hand remains on my face.

I can hide my face with my hands.

Why did I not think of that before.

Sbho takes away the bread, and God knows what else he brought.

My attention is taken away by the overly-loud TV.

I'm not really watching, I just need something to take my attention away from the fact that I feel naked.

Sitting here like this, my arms empty, my glasses adjusted. I feel - exposed.

He is grabbing my arm.

Pulling me to him.

Signals me to follow him to the cave.

The baby.

Where's the baby?

He's not here.

I don't see him.

Maybe with Sbho.

It's just me and him.

No TV to distract everything.

He's looking at me, I am not looking at him, but I can feel his eyes on me.

He removes the glasses.

His, not mine.

He comes closer.

Places his hands on my shoulder. 

Darling.

Is that me?

Is he calling me?

He calls me that all the time.

The doctor says focus on one thing at a time.

He says that will help.

Right now,

There's his naked eyes with no glasses

There's Darling

I think that's my name

Or maybe not.

I don't know

I'm not sure anymore

And my heart,

Why is it thudding?

The doctor had a name for it

Anxiety?

That's the answer he seems to have for all of my problems.

Take deep breaths, he says.

I am taking those now.

More than the tabs he prescribed.

Did I take them today?

I am focusing on one thing finally

The taste of his lips.

Oh it tastes good.

Don't stop.

Why's he stopping?

The smell of his neck

The silky soft touch of his fingers

His soft Afro

His lashes batting on my skin

The tremor on his when I run my fingers on him

The calm in me, when I finally get to say

Welcome home.