My brain still lingers onto yesterdays and handholds that never existed.
I hate that I still look for you in the crowds of people, and empty hallways hoping that maybe when our eyes meet your heart would remember me and skip a beat
I hate that my words still get tangled in my mouth because even though I've tried to convince myself that I am so very angry with you, the tiniest bits of me still wish that you cared enough about me to be mad at me too...
I hate that every time I hear your name, the little hairs on my arms shoot up all alert and angsty in the the hopes that maybe one day you will appear from your hiding spot
unless its me that you are hiding from?
Everybody says that you are no good for me That I deserve someone who sees me:
I hate that I know that But I chose to ignore it And now I have to pretend to hold it together while you get to walk around unscathed by the touch of our hands
You would think that I would have stopped waiting by now, for invitations I know will never arrive and conversations that won’t ever start up again, but I haven’t and I hate that I haven’t, I really do.
So go on leave then, walk out the door for the last time-
But I won’t be here when you come again because I can’t keep apologising for mistakes that I haven’t made yet.
By: Lulwama K. Mulalu
This is not a poem. It is as an attempt to decipher all of my emotions and evaluate on the haphazardness of life events.