once upon a man

I once had you to look up to

you with your wits and cunning games

yet you reminded me of the gravity of failure

and overwhelmed me with volleys of helplessness

You once hugged me oh so tight

I’d boast of your unwavering and heroic stamina

then you threw me out in a stormy night

and waited for the hurricane to sweep me into oblivion

You once gazed in my eyes so fondly

Your emeralds comforted my hazels

before you wrestled me towards the district of cruelty

driving me future to the brink of insanity

You once took me by the hand

you held on like I was dopamine

now you serenade me with pain

with throat tightening, eye watering torture

How I love to loath your smell

the scent of testosterone tinted with evil

Your hold on me is not over

until my brain seeps out from a broken skull

I am a disaster with a beating heart

thrown to the gallows by my saviour

all the while waiting for me to confess

that he is the only thing that is keeping me alive

How are you?

 

“How are you?”

 

He broke my heart, many a times, with the things he didn’t say

I lost my mind, glancing at my phone, daring him to call.

My eyes bled, more often than not, of sweat and dry mucus

The loyalty game is rigged, but really that’s his excuse?

He was the edge to my sword. I was the curve to his bow***

 

*Ring ring*

 

Would you look at that, It’s only took five years

By Pharaoh’s knee he hadn’t changed, that much I could tell

He says, “Aye, regardless of how you feel, let’s just be friends again”

It’s is my fault, I lingered a bit too long on familiar scents

but please go ahead.

 

 

Yes!  tell me how insensitive I was, and how you were the good guy.

The devil must be a six foot tall, hazel eyed childhood friend.

 

 

All the bruises he left,  all the waiting I did

The dawn of my pistanthrophobia

All the fight I had in me has smitten to crisp stardust

Sure I want to go back to when I thought wishes were horses

Believing my horoscope, penning down a song every Friday  night to move on from you

 

 

“So what say you, Ebony queen, how about we fight for us?”

LOL. LOLer. LOLest

He must be inebriated from piss.

 

 

Sure it’d be nice to be 18 again, or whatever

So quickly I’d forgotten his retreating footsteps down a cinder path

His snorty laugh, I thought was so perfect is now a memory

The song I wrote for him is like a worm in my hollow ears

The one that scattered me with writhing pain  now lives in an empty house

 

But whatever.

 

It took a while to rid my tainted blood of your vain addiction

and it took a while to stop being 18

I fought hard to see the pure beauty that you never would

So I’m afraid, it’ll take more than everything you got to clean our slate,

but in the mean time, “how are you?”

 

Image source: Twitter

 

The One That Got Away

Mid-morning

The Snow grew heavier

They lay in bed

entwined in each other’s crouch

Him caressing her cheeks

He adored her

He couldn’t imagine his world without her.

 

She gazed into his eyes

They say when you’re with the right one

You just know

And it terrified her

If only he knew

His love was toxic

She’d turned it into resentment

If he only knew

that they wouldn’t stay entwined forever.

It’d break him

but she was youthful, beautiful

many-a-man fell at her heel

Afterall, wouldn’t it be a crime

to commit too early?

 

He senses his lover’s tribulations

He askes that one question

he knew would discern her intentions,

“Do you even love me?”

A pause.

Followed by a longer pause.

“No”.

Their bodies separate

Just like their hearts.

 

 

He held onto her,

her scent, her voice

As long as he could

He wouldn’t find anybody else

For he wasn’t suave,

not even a little bit

But in a country with more than 250 million people

Even the hunchback on Notre Dame himself was accepted.

He was right.

 

 

Liberated

Like she always wanted

Living defiantly

Reveling in the arms of suitors.

Someday she’d commit

Not until the wine turned sour

Her conquests became stale

and staying up till midnight, a chore

Would that day be on the horizon.

She often had reveries of him

And how he was faring

She picked up the phone book

And sought him.

 

 

He knew whom it was

When he saw the text

Memories of his heart, broken

by the person he could have vowed would always be there

He texted back.

Reconnecting with the old.

 

 

She admits she doesn’t have a regret

Tho, she wishes he would care for her

She senses part of him wants it too

so she asks the question

She knew would discern his intentions,

“Do you even love me?”

A pause.

A longer pause.

“No”.