He created,
A mind that follows solutions,
An ego so fragile but insists on appearing stable.
A spirit that does not give up easily, and takes risks.
Hands, large, that easily blocks the sun.
Shoulders sculpted, and boldly defined.
Muscles protruding, trying to escape from the skin.
Edges sharp, from the ridges of the brow to the jaws.
And a smile that ignites festival fireworks in a girl's belly.


Everything screaming, "I HAVE TO BE STRONG!"

A year ago I clung onto the covers on my bed... lamenting... heartbroken over you.

Today, you're more of a fading scar than a gaping wound.

People get lonely,
And that's okay.

But I want to be lonely with you,
Is that okay too?

I  took  my wrist  and  cut  myself,
just  to  open  up  to  you.
And you  watched  my blood  as  it  touched  the ground.
I  waited for  you  to  move from the miles  you  put between us.
I  hoped that  you would come help  me close my wound.
Instead,  you  pretended  as  if  you  did not see  me.
And you turned around and walked   in the opposite direction.
Adding more distance  between  us.

Whether you are under your blankets
Or in the arms of another.

I hope you are warm wherever you are.

You're running away from heartbreak but there are things that need to be broken for you to grow.

You try to reassemble the fragments of the trust you once had.
You collect the pieces without contaminating them with your anger, bitterness, callousness and discombobulation.

You console yourself with memories that aren't tainted with the hurt.
You try...

But you get weary and distant.

And you don't put much effort in the trust you're trying to rebuild.
Because why should you clean up a mess made by someone you love?

You came providing a shelter.
I found comfort and safety.
But after a while I realised
That you were blocking the sun and rain.
And I slowly withered away.

Once you finally decided to leave
Sun rays brought life and
the rain refreshment.
And I was finally able to bloom again.

When my thoughts drift towards a certain young man.
I begin to admire his solid structure.
Tracing over every edge, stamping his image on the back of my eye lids.

Dreaming, dreaming of a soft, tender embrace.
Feeling, feeling like that will never take place.
For this young man has found solace in solitude.

As I visit him, filled with history that cannot be thrown away.
In his museum, he is there, at the centre, a piece of art.
But still only a statue...refusing to move.
Refusing to yield a warm touch.

Who is truly foolish?

...I can only expect so much from a statue.

You're going to give me butterflies
and I'm going to be mad
when you don't take them with you
when you leave.

Dating you always seemed like we were holding hands at first.
Tightly gripped and firm.
Then you started to loosen your grip and I held mine in place.
Still tightly gripped and firm.
Over time...your hand started slipping from mine and I still held on.
Until that night...when you finally yanked your hand away from mine.

Now I hold my own hand...in a fist.
Tightly gripped and firm.

Waiting to punch you in the throat.

I am not weak.
But you will never know this.
Because you were told,
That I was enclosed in glass,
And that I needed to be handled with care.

Your mistake was thinking that I was made up of glass.

I have figured it out.

Somehow, you are able to encapsulate love into a tangible gift that you give to me endlessly.

The past is a place where everyone wishes to go to once in a while.
But if all wishes came true
Then no one would be satisfied.
This is why minds should process,
That progress comes by being friends with the day and moving with time.

We are much more than the pain that is written in our past.

To: the nineteen year old version of myself who's falling in love right now.

Love him.
Love him with all your heart, lungs, liver and kidneys too.
In fact, just love him with your entire existence.

Love him even though he will not love you back.

And it's okay because I need you to do that for me so I can grow.

Love,
Me

When you glide your fingers on my skin
Or whenever we touch.
I am overcome with a gamut of emotions.
And I feel so much...

Something like the reason ice cubes melt in the palm of your hand,
Which is maybe the same reason the hinges on my door have started to thaw.

Because of you, I feel so much warmth and so much more.

When I think about it
Being unaware and optimistic
And recieving things freely.
Things like love, support and the freedom to dream.
Was a luxury...
A luxury I wish I did not have to barter for adulthood.

Now that the naivety is gone,
Sometimes cynicism becomes a companion
And anxiety a daily battle.
My bed is my absolute favourite place to visit.
And every part of my body aches.
And I'm just...tired.
And empty.

A foolish woman is clamorous;
She is simple, and knows nothing.
For she sits at the door of her house, On a seat by the highest places of the city,
To call to those who pass by, Who go straight on their way: “Whoever is simple, let him turn in here”;
And as for him who lacks understanding, she says to him, “Stolen water is sweet, And bread eaten in secret is pleasant.”
But he does not know that the dead are there,
That her guests are in the depths of hell.
Proverbs 9:13‭-‬18 NKJV

...thought I was the ocean on earth.

I found out that I was
a puddle that the
rain made and
the sun
vapourized.

I sit in pain that I've felt before
And once again I'm alone.
Picking myself up once more.

I really wanted things to be different this time.

Is to have the ability to stand tall where gravity does not exist.

You made me smile
And you made me laugh.
You gave me butterflies
Because for me, you were enough.

But I failed, dismally,
To return the things that you gave to me.

I don't just have scars...
I have memories tattooed onto my skin.
I have emotions attached to my heart and imprinted onto my skin.
They are conversation starters that say all that needs to be said.

But they don't ask...

I decided not to fall in love again
Until I fall for myself.
But you...you make me yearn
For the sweetness that comes with love
And the bitter taste it leaves in my mouth.

Even great, big, tall trees lose their leaves during winter.
Some lose a bit more,
But spring will come.

Spring will come...

To: The One I Love

I love you
As the you I know
As the you I might never know
And as the you I'm yet to be acquainted with.

I just love you.

🖤🖤🖤

Let's be careful with who we display our broken pieces to.

My absent father made me feel a range of emotions,
Happiness was not one of them
And love was not included.

When wounded in a place where the body cannot heal.
And the person who has caused that wound is unaware of how deep it is...
Or does not believe it's real.
And only "negative" emotions seem to numb the pain.

To those emotions, I guess forgiveness would be a betrayal.

So for now, do not forgive me.

Those butterflies I felt,
that fluttered to the zenith of  dangerous firmaments,

they too die.

Adulthood is putting on a mask everyday
And hoping that one day
You become that mask.

Seemingly I cannot not like you.
But you smell like a night filled with debauchery.
The type of smell that I loathe.
You smell like my father.

And I know what's going to happen,
I'm going to love you.
And you too will leave me, right?

When she was younger she wanted to grow up and be happy.
Now that the years have granted her another birthday.
Is she happy?

She would tell you that happiness is a fluctuating feeling.
And that she stopped looking for it.

She used to plant seeds where seeds did not grow.
Recently she started to plant seeds in herself, even though the weather is uncertain
And the wind is strong
And the soil is still healing.

Something has grown...

Now that she's turning 21
All she's looking forward to, is seeing her garden be filled with flowers.
She's grateful to be able to experience all of it.

That's all she has to say.

If you were to say, "pack your bags and let's go". I would go.
Where to?
It wouldn't matter and I wouldn't know.
Unfortunately, the farthest place you frequent is the liquor store.
And you don't even ask me to go with you.
Not anymore.

Being black means that there are hands of my forefathers and foremothers that are placed on my shoulders.
They gently tap and push me to be better than what I have been taught we could be.
Who tell us our history?

If I do not seize these opportunities that are here now then the doors they opened,
using their bodies that nourish the soil now and their voices that have been silenced,
will slowly close and who would be able to walk through them?

Yes, it's the same old song with the same old tune.
We must keep singing so we do not forget.

Everyone has jumped off.
But I'm here trying to patch holes
That you refused to attend,
With my first aid level one skills.

I wish I took swimming lessons instead.

There are those who believe that no one has ever died of a heartbreak.
Clearly, they haven't met me.
Sadly, they can never meet me.

But, they can visit my grave.

As we grow older,
It gets harder to laugh whole heartedly,
Because we become aware,
Of the holes in our hearts that nothing seems to fill.

Nevertheless, we always try
And that makes us beautiful.

I've been practising how to fix my contenance by trying to carve a smile in the corners of my cheeks.

For when I see you again.

When he smiles,
Instead of butterflies,
I'm flooded with nostalgic memories of times spent together laughing like hyenas.
And roasting each other as if we were marshmallows on a stick hovering over a campfire.
Memories of talking over the phone for hours,
Where he does not whisper sweet nothings to me, instead we speak about the moon,
the stars, everthing and question why everything is the way it is.
This is why when I seek comfort I go to him.
Because I get more than this,
He gives me insight,
A different perspective
Or a reason to self-reflect.

He is not my pillar of strength.
He is the healthiest relationship I've had with a boy for years.  
He is Ray.
Like the ray of sunshine flowers need to grow.
He does not know this yet
but he is definitely the platonic love of my life.

I stopped writing...

But after several years,
You just send me a text,
And I realise I'm a mess.

Because here I am.
In the late A. M,
Writing...

Missing you too.