Where does it end?

IMG_6248.JPGExactly One Saturday ago, I couldn’t sleep.

My heart was restless.

You’d only left to go home across the road,

But I just couldn’t deal with it.

It was around 2am when you called.

Your voice made me somersault,

Many times over.

If I could, I would’ve married you right There.

Earlier that day, evening and night,

Were truly the best of my life.

Up until that Friday,

There wasn’t a single being –

Human or Animal,

Who made me feel so incredibly Whole.

I thanked God with every word I know.

And While I massaged your body,

As clichèd as it may sound,

I touched my head to your feet.

I had your answer.

To be your wife.

To carry your name, to nourish your every need.

All our doubts subsided in your arms.

And You showed me what I thought I’d lost.

Your tenderness, your kind heart.

Witty, Handsome, Strong.

The very things I fell in love with you for,

I’d decided; it was done.

But Little did I know,

That This was in fact the same old dance,

Only this time, to a different tune.

And like clockwork, at the beat,

Saturday arrived.

And you turned cold,

Typically Familiar.

Yet, Warmed by the incredible Love

We shared just the day before,

I Began selling to myself –

My fault, I “don’t know how to talk.”

My fault, I “don’t know what to talk.”

I agreed with you; And Your storm disappeared.

We sailed through the day and then another.

“Ambitious Bitch”

Little did I know,

Tuesday evening Would bring with it

Your summer storm so strong,

That The first time you struck my face,

I wanted to scream.

More, when you grabbed my face.

Your fingernails dug deep.

My face still sore from the many times

You bit me while making love.

The first time you spat at me,

it carried with it,

the fragrance of your lips,

But stung like acid.

For 3 hours,

My heart bled.

Run over each time you –

slapped me.

burnt each time you –

spat at me,

Crumbled  each time I –

saw the lips that

kissed me so tenderly,

call me a whore, cunt, ambitious bitch.

We died.

Each time you humiliated our love in full public view.

Girls dream of walking hand-in-hand with the Love of their Life.

Of being held, protected, loved.

I just stood there, outside a busy shop, on a busy street.

As you spat at me, dug deep into my face, afraid, detested by you.

Am I wrong when I said

You strung me along ?

When just two days before then,

you led me to believe, led us to believe,

You loved me, You loved us.

As you humiliated me,

Did you once think of how much we laughed?

Did you once think of how much we hugged?

Did you once think of how happy we were?

Did you once think of anyone but yourself?

Did you think of us?

Of the life we built?

But Do you ever think of us?

You spat at me, as you proceeded to

berate my family, upheld yours.

You hit me, as you proceeded to

shame me, my body, my past loves.

You spat at me again, as you proceeded to

show me my place, how hurt you are.

You spat at me again, as you proceeded to

accuse me of dishonoring

Your parents, Your money, Your dreams,

Your house, Your life, Your image of what You want me to be.

And all I could think to myself was –

How do I love this man ?

Broken, I’ve realized,

For you to begin, I must end.

And end I did.

May those you love, never make you feel as insignificant

As You ensure I do.

And may God bless you abundantly.

So that one day, the man I love,

The man from that Friday,

Forever consumes You.

I have made peace,

That my love is Weak.

My love is Unlucky.

But at the same time,

I feel blessed.

For that one Friday in Five Years.

Where I can be proud of you, of us.

That I truly did fall in love with

a tender, loving man

who is never afraid to speak his mind.

But now I’m tired.

I’m broken.

Dear man I love from that one Friday in Five years,

If ever you read this,

I have one question to ask you,

When does this end so that I may begin?

Whore

The oars are heavy,
I push along,
The old boat is weak –
Waves are strong.
The dark is thick,
I remember his song –
“Whore”
Five years ago,
I couldn’t be wrong –
Raven hair, swept back,
His shoulders long.
My heart beat fast,
His Lips, Warm.
“Whore”
At first, he screamed,
It Made me shudder,
I turned to walk,
He cursed my mother.
Arms spread wide,
Then came another –
“Whore”
The wood cuts deep,
Deep into my palm,
The waves begin to soften,
The sea begins to calm.
Black is now light,
And I’m almost ashore.
Just as I’m about to breathe,
I see him standing there –
Greeting me –
“Whore”

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“Yesterday Was Hard On All Of Us” – Fink

Where do we go from here?
Where do we go?
And is it real or just
Something we think we know?

Where are we going now?
Where do we go?
Cause if it’s the same as yesterday
You know I’m out, just so you know
Because, because
Our paths, they cross
Yesterday was hard
On all of us
On all of us

Who can we trust from here?
Who can we trust?
And are you real, or just
Something from wanderlust?

Who can you trust my dear sweet flower?
Who can you trust?
From cradle to grave, from ashes to ashes
From dust to dust
Because, because
Our paths, they cross
Yesterday was hard
On all of us
On all of us

Where do we go from here?
Where do we go?
And we got nothing we can trust
And nothing we can’t sell, that’s for sure

And how do we get out?
How do we move around with all these eyes on us?
Tell you what, you go first
It’s almost like it’s kind of rehearsed
Because, because
Our paths, they cross
Yesterday was hard
On all of us
On all of us

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At the cafe:

You were so agitated; so closed;

You didn’t want to be there.

You were determined not to be there.

You decided to punish me for being there.

You said I dragged you there.

I took it all. I had faith.

But I was so nervous. I told you, too.

My heart was pounding.

You began playing with your keys on the table.

Demonstrating your disappointment.

You didn’t even look at me once.

My heart sank deep into my chest.

I could see, feel, sense the anger build up.

My heart began to race.

I glanced the menu over and over again.

And ordered what I thought was best.

You continued to flip your keys.

“Never speak of coming here again,”  You said.

“Be open, at least try,” I said.

It got you angrier.

I apologised.

You refused to look at me.

The food came.

I took a bite, you followed, reluctantly.

You took another, then another.

You smiled.

And I said to myself – there he is.

I felt relief washing over my body.

You began talking to me.

Smiling widely.

All I could see was you. Happy.

My faith restored in faith itself.

And how we laughed.

You were content.

We came home.

Chatted a while.

You texted I love you.

I immediately felt blessed.

And I thought to myself –

Today was symbolic of  our relationship.

All these years,

You’ve been afraid –

For tomorrow, for now, for yesterday.

It struck me –

If I continue to do what I did today.

Ride wave after wave of your fear – fearlessly,

Maybe then.

You’ll smile. And see that we are happy.

All you had to do was try.

I’m sure, the wait will be worth it.

You just need time.

Papa, I love you too. Every inch of you.

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My Womb Has No Place For You

My womb has no place for you.
I forbid you from dividing, multiplying –
Plundering and pillaging my blood to bring yourself to life.
Unlike your father, grandfather and those before him,
You shall have no name.
The walls and linings that you grab to protect yourself – belong to me, they are me and always will be.
Don’t call me mother, fiend.
Unlike your father, grandfather and those before him,
Your fingers will never form a fist.
Blessed is the earth,
Spared form nurturing such spawn.
Because it can. Because it is expected to. Because it has been forced to.
Unlike your father, grandfather and those before him,
Your story will never begin.

But unlike your father, grandfather and those before him,

You have half of my heart. You have half of my Soul.

And unlike your father, grandfather and those before him,
I promise every inch of you will be loved. Not just the parts I like, the parts I want or the parts I think I should. All of You.

I will wrap my body around you like armor. Lay down my life for You, if I have to.
And unlike your father, grandfather and those before him – Your fingers will be open.

you will live, you will thrive.
Because unlike your father, grandfather and those before him,
You are Free to be whoever you want to be.

Breathe. Be.

Baby.

I’m going against all better judgement and typing this: M,  I’ve truly done my best; played by all your rules; done everything you’ve asked me to. Savings, gym, grace – i’ve pushed, pulled and twisted my body to your preferences – Yet the past month and some you’ve been relentless in your constant devaluation and discard. Four years ago, i never imgained feeling what i do today. To deliberately make someone feel small and insignificant is a skill i never imagined you would ever have. You were my rock, my upholder of truth;  in my eyes I was the wretched one but you my love, could make a mistake but do no wrong. I’m grateful for every minuscule thing you’ve done for me, baby and my family but  i fail to understand the hatred you have for us now, when all we did was open up our home, life and heart to you. You have no idea, the strength it took for me to pull baby away from you that evening, to accept that this is not the man who loves us but merely someone who looks like him. Because if he loves us and wants to protect us, why then would he want to smash our heads to pieces?

who are you? And what have you done to the man of our house? Sometimes, i wish you were an addict. That way it would be less confusing and I could have something to blame for your abusive behaviour. I may be the worst human being on the planet but that still does not justify the abuse you have put me through- consciously.

I cannot belive you did it. You beat all our love out of me. You won. So now, May you find what you’re looking for Papa Bear. It’s cold outside, keep your chest warm, rub vicks on your feet.

Money cant buy you, you.

“Make all the money you want. Eat at all the fancy restaurants you choose, that i can apparently never afford. Sleep with all the ‘thin’ and ‘hot’ women ” you want. Money will never buy you a new you. Money will never buy you a new past. Money will never change the fact that you are a habitual abuser M. Not even “spare change.”