I hate that I still think of you-
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.
