I wonder how long you waited
After leaving me
To crawl into her bed
You said that you would come back for me
So I waited
Excited for your return
Yearning to be in your arms again
Instead you ran to hold her
And I'm a fool
For loving you
Hurt by the first event.
Punished for the second event.
Killed on the third- Wait. Killed? Am I dying?
life f***d me so hard
now i am pregnant
at the mercy of fatigue
and morning sickness,
i dream of galaxies
far away,
of stars burning out,
of white holes emerging
entities from one dimension
to a newer, greener one
i conceived hope
from tears
my grey sky shed
here in my womb
a new possibility was implanted
i watch blood spots stain
the clean linen I wear,
remind myself of the gift
throbbing in my veins
life f****d me so hard
now i am finally pregnant
after years of being barren,
lurking in the dark woods,
marveling at the depth of
the wounds i try so hard
to conceal,
the wrist cuts gaping
like angry openings but never
allowed air to fill my lungs
i suffocate, shatter in the corner
grit my teeth, bite my lips
to keep me from screaming
silence is comforting they say
and i drank too much of it
isolated from the rest of the world,
i am a pariah
who crawl the earth,
taste the saltiness of my sweat,
swallow the dirt
i lure death to my private chamber
he evaded me
but from time to time he visits
the farthest
reaches of my memory
he is not mine to summon
i can only wish solace
from the swing of his sword
so life flirted with me
it was a magical moment
romance quickly blossomed from
my famished mouth,
a miracle mushrooming from
my aching breasts,
it urged me to believe love always wins
though i never had the chance
to taste victory no matter how fierce i called
its name from the void, love
is an illusion meant to
manipulate us in our most
vulnerable state
life used love to tame me
i was at its beck and call
i've lain on a bed of roses
for ten moons or so
woke at the light kisses of zephyr,
greeted by the warm strokes of the sun
i was happy until the waves grew
rough, devouring me
i fell unconscious from the blows
gained scars from the wars
i waged in my head
life f*****d me so hard
it was an excruciating night
i lost my pride
i lost my dignity
now i am pregnant
after enduring barrenness,
and frustration,
and pain
i am pregnant with faith
with hope,
with courage,
with new potentials
i harnessed from
the belligerent storms
the world sent
to prevent me from going home
-new beginning,
katie, 19:20
“Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind.”
Virginia Woolf
#words by virginia woolf #freedom of mind
Self,
I fell in love with the way you try so hard despite no one ever noticing your effort, despite it feeling like it never works, like it’s not worth it. Your resilience will take you far, if you let it.
- MD
I am a sword. It is not my fault you are not worthy enough to wield my power.
Your eyes are the calm blue green of the water. Do you remember, that time we walked down by the lake? No, not that time we sat at intervals along the bank and I felt jealousy ripple through me as you plucked at a branch, told me about who you planned to spend your evening with. Not tonight, either, when the river hummed quietly beside us as I raced myself back to your room. No, the time we walked and walked, and I felt myself fold quietly inward, following with the earnest calm of an eager puppy as you showed me where and how you liked to sit, the sun dappled shallows reflecting as you pitched your view. That day I thought I could follow you anywhere, your firm hand giving direction that even now I still find wrapped around my wrist. I still feel it now, swelling like waves as your eyes pour into me, and I suddenly understand the reason the tide comes home.
And if it falls, sometimes, it falls to your lips, and the words will kiss you, love you like it is used to, because nothing falls without being kissed, like a raindrop to the earth, like a shell that opens its mouth, like a leaf touching each other, so if it comes to you, in your receptive mind, or in the corners of my eyes, or two cherries arguing to the wind, or listen to my existence, look, I am here, in syncopated breath, in the far light of the moon, in the familiar grain of your skin or to the sleepless metaphors, in the growth of inspiration, I am here, I am here.
— Chuck Akot, i am here
16th May, Sunday, 9.03pm
he fell apart in front of me yesterday. all those small broken pieces that were tied together so desperately (so carefully) by thin string; had finally succumbed to the strained tension. it was a cool autumn evening, the moon was but a sliver of white in the dull purple and yellow sky, when i pressed my cheek against his shaking shoulder as i tried to piece together the deafening silence of my best friend’s undoing. no matter how firm, how tight my arm had snaked around the damaged porcelain - i could not even manage to gather them in my fingers as they slithered right through the most minuscule of gaps. it’s a strange thing being helpless as you watch someone cry, fall apart in silence. you notice that the air is colder, that your hands are trembling, that your throat is drying up -- i realised i was crying too.
p.s murakami said that when people open their hearts -- they get better.
Sunday May 16th, 2021.
For all time, will I ever love another? 'No, I doubt not.' Said the Kingfisher.
I keep asking him … jumping as high as I can … tapping the toes of my shiny patent-leather boots, scraping their heels shifting from foot to foot. Over to the left and back to the centre of a swift Maldivian circle dance.
I’m forced to do some clever manoeuvres. . . . The Kingfisher, he is impervious! He must know I cannot resist the toxicity of my loneliness.
- September 2018.
If our love was this blue
Why you painted our house scarlet.
Thou askest me if I could speak of love,
Knowing what I know, and seeing what I have seen,
Thou askest me that—and thus, I answer thee—
Thus on my bended knee I answer thee.
Sweet Lalage, I love thee—love thee—love thee;
- Edgar Allan Poe
