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I am unlovable. Easily broken like the glass that shattered long before I even touched it. I am war- too volatile to handle, too unpredictable to wait for so I told you to run, take nothing with you (except for regret) for it will only slow you down and I don’t have time to warn you twice. Why would you choose to stay? Years later I’m still sitting in my aloneness in a home built out of paper mache and sweat anger and hate weighing comfortably in my aching belly- I am only vengeful towards my body, and it knows that. I spit fires from my tongue, setting borders alight because unbounded is the only way that I’ll have you Love- You know just how it is that I like my coffee. Bloodied walls and broken hands, I’ve been building this staircase for a while now. …I’m just looking to ask god why… You asked me if I was ready and I told you that my pain wasn't done baking yet I am still dancing with the shadows of my demons- I am open wounds that refuse to heal. I want to feel your breath on my skin but I am afraid of how it deeply it will scar because every time you touch me, I bleed. My lungs started collecting dust on a shelf somewhere:- collapsed from the heaviness of mistrust and almost apologies- Yes, my mother did warn me about men that creep in and out women’s chests at night. So go on and make a home out of her, I’m no use to you like this. I am bloodshed. I am war. Too volatile too handle, and too unpredictable to wait for. My pain isn’t done baking yet, but I will wait by the waters until it does. I am alright in my own solitude… I’ll make poetry out it. By: Lulwama Kuto Mulalu
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
Scars.
I am unlovable. Easily broken like the glass that shattered long before I even touched it. I am war- too volatile to handle, too unpredictable to wait for so I told you to run, take nothing with you (except for regret) for it will only slow you down and I don’t have time to warn you twice. Why would you choose to stay? Years later I’m still sitting in my aloneness in a home built out of paper mache and sweat anger and hate weighing comfortably in my aching belly- I am only vengeful towards my body, and it knows that. I spit fires from my tongue, setting borders alight because unbounded is the only way that I’ll have you Love- You know just how it is that I like my coffee. Bloodied walls and broken hands, I’ve been building this staircase for a while now. …I’m just looking to ask god why… You asked me if I was ready and I told you that my pain wasn't done baking yet I am still dancing with the shadows of my demons- I am open wounds that refuse to heal. I want to feel your breath on my skin but I am afraid of how it deeply it will scar because every time you touch me, I bleed. My lungs started collecting dust on a shelf somewhere:- collapsed from the heaviness of mistrust and almost apologies- Yes, my mother did warn me about men that creep in and out women’s chests at night. So go on and make a home out of her, I’m no use to you like this. I am bloodshed. I am war. Too volatile too handle, and too unpredictable to wait for. My pain isn’t done baking yet, but I will wait by the waters until it does. I am alright in my own solitude… I’ll make poetry out it. By: Lulwama Kuto Mulalu
Got up in the early hours of the morning and wrote this.
lulwama-kuto-mulalu
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Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 2:14 PM UTC
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