the numbing

I hate that sometimes I think about you and immediately punish myself by sealing the memory in the dungeon in my mind.

You don’t deserve to be in my memories anymore. To keep showing up when I feel lonely or when I hope that the next text is from you.

You don’t have the right to remind me that you said my love was worth protecting if you didn’t care about destroying my world.

You broke me. Us.

Now, without any shame, I wish that maybe in my dreams you’ll appear and I’ll be allowed to remember every moment of you.

But even in my dreams, your presence is a double-edged sword. It brings a fleeting comfort, a momentary escape from the reality of our broken bond. Yet, as I wake, the pain resurfaces, sharper than before, a cruel reminder of what was lost.

I find myself wandering through the day, haunted by the echoes of our laughter, the hope for a touch I’ve never felt. It’s a cruel irony that the very memories I seek solace in are the ones that torment me the most.

I’ve tried to fill the void with distractions, with new faces and different places, but they all pale in comparison to the vividness of us. It’s a stark realization that while I can move on with my life, I can’t escape the shadow you’ve cast over my heart.

And so, I continue to live with this contradiction, where part of me yearns for your memory to fade into oblivion, while another part clings to it desperately, afraid to let go of the last pieces of you.

It’s a silent battle, one that I fight every day, hoping that someday, the thought of you will bring a smile to my lips, not a tear to my eye. Until then, you remain a bittersweet chapter in the story of my life, a love that once was, but can never be again.

My dear friend, MSJ.

ALL

I look at you and I see him. All of him. Every form of him. I am pleased. You are everything I could ever imagine and more. More than this world could offer me. More than the sun, the stars, the earth, the moon…you are God’s messenger, an angel, a supernatural being. My bundle of joy. 

I look at you and I see me. All of me. Every form of me. I am elated. You will be strong, resilient, eager and fierce. With gifts granted from God, you will open your mouth to command the mountains to move and the earth beneath you will tremble. 

You are all of us. Two worlds collided and formed beauty. Two hearts made one. Your eyes opened and I found peace, a stillness, a home….you are my everything. I now exist for you. 

To the Core

I think we’ve broken each other down more times than I’ll allow myself to remember. I’ve literally hated you for loving me when all I needed was your love. I needed you. I’ll never understand why I made the decisions I’ve made. Said the things I’ve said. Treated you the way I did. I was difficult and disappointing. I was unrealistic and uncanny. I did everything in my power to break us and simply did not care. 

I was a child. One who felt indispensable and irreplaceable. I threw tantrums and hurt myself for attention. I was brutally distorted, manipulative, and disgraceful. 

But you…you loved me. 

Oh, but you weren’t perfect. Far from it. Broken in your own way. You needed guidance. You were angry, in pain and needed answers. You were alone and sunken in your darkness. Our love was raw and unjust. We didn’t play by the rules of our upbringing. We fell in love and unraveled our deepest, darkest, most vulnerable selves in the pit of it. We made sense of the mess because we needed each other. You fought back when I fought you. You took every punch…until you punched back. 

Why does this still happen?

Why do movies unleash captured moments and forgotten memories? Why do dreams place you in the forefront of my subconscious? Why do I see you in faces? Hear you behind voices? Remember who you use to be…with me. Not who you are now. Why does writing this now feel just as heavy as it felt when I was in the midst of it all?

Maybe because the story for me never ended. I’ve always believed it hasn’t for you either. I swear I know it hasn’t. Every part of me feels it. 

Sure the pages are different now. The words written entail new stories, new memories. But I still remember the phone calls. Your words. I still remember everything. 

Maybe I never knew I needed your love because I didn’t know what love was. Maybe you fought back because saying enough is enough and just holding me until the tantrums stopped wasn’t going to heal the brokenness we both felt inside. Maybe being young was our blessing and our curse because now we know better, love better and want better. Maybe…just maybe I should thank you. Or maybe I’m to be thanked for letting you go. Then again, maybe I’m just that fucking crazy. 

2020

Should I have mended the relationships created in my era of brokenness? I was surrounded by ‘friendships’ that steered with envy, hatred, and lies. So many questions unanswered and the level of backstabbing was beyond belief. To this day, there are conversations unspoken. Apologies unattainable. Followed by the piercing disbelief in the renunciation of forgiveness.

We’ve all grown up, moved apart, moved on…right? And yet we peek in the lives of the unforgivable and unspeakable through the lenses of social media or social gatherings. What truth are we living?

I took the time to apologize to those who allowed an open line of communication. Unnecessary but relieving. Unfortunately, too much time has passed and sometimes overdue apologizes don’t create sympathy or amicable justifications, just confusion. However, at times they bring peace.

Yet, I wonder what is due and now not needed. Does my struggle of letting go make me weak or am I subconsciously conditioned to make things right by any means? Do we need a reason to apologize and in the same breath are we freely opening doors of forgiveness? Are we freeing ourselves from entangled thoughts of brokenness or pushing past to acceptance or even feign indifference?

Either way, once an apology is presented, is it our duty to forgive?

What is your truth?

Phoenix

Why do my emotions aspire to conspire against my will to be whole not broken? Why do my thoughts flash through memories of past lovers that once burnt me down to ash? Have I not proven to my inner being that I am capable of overcoming twisted obstacles? That still I rise, like a Phoenix reborn stretching her wings to make room for growth.

Stop tampering with me. Why must you choose to allow this infestation of pest? This cave of sorrow. Why crawl into the hole of sadness and darkness, ripping you away from the first bright light you’ve seen in years?

Why run back to trouble? Has it called your name or are you too coward to stand strong? Was it not you who chose to yell out to the skies, “I am unstoppable, indestructible”? Why destroy destiny, corrupt fate, play with the devil? Don’t grant him access.

Fall down six, rise yet a seventh. You are a Phoenix. You will fly again. You are a warrior. You will fight and this too shall pass.

Mère du Mal

I’d feed on you if I could. As a succubus does her prey; intimately luring their minds, compromising their hearts and devouring their vessels. A place that is no longer a temple for God but a playground for the damned. Feed me your hearts desires and I shall birth in your name, a future scorned by a million men. A child so elegantly cunning yet reeking of mischief and madness. Poisoned by infectious diseases, plagued by broken hearts. I will birth a child of brokenness, a child full of hate, damnation and of curses. A child who only lives to hate. One meant to give you a taste of your own medicine. Let me feed on you. Let me take from you all of which you despise, envy or secrets you hide from the world. Give your scars to me and I will pass it along to our children. Let them sort your sorrows. Let them represent how you have treated women, torn them apart and have subdued them. Let me give birth to your own mistakes, your choices. You are the foundation. Let me show you.

Tell me the Effing Truth

It’s unrealistic and unconventional but it is our reality. Why do we hold on to and love what repulses us? Why do we accept what we morally renounce? Where do we disconnect? Where do we lose ourselves? What causes us to project from who we truly are within a being we do not desire to conform to be. How do we take on forms of unfamiliarity? What causes sin? 

How Love Made me Lose Her

He couldn’t see her face. Blocked by the sheets, she curled underneath with her untamed hair. She was invisible. ‘Princess,’ he called to her, hoping her body would react to the sound of his voice or her skin would tickle from the heat of his breath. She didn’t stir. Too driven by sleep. She loved to sleep. ‘It’s the only other peace I have when I don’t have you,’ she’d say when they were apart.

 

Lifting the sheet enough to graze the bronze of her skin. He began placing butterfly kisses on the nape of her neck, her heart pounded like drums in the middle of East Africa. Mmm. She groaned hints of pleasure hidden behind the anguish that spoke plainly on her hidden face. ‘Let me see you,’ he begged. Her leg found the space in between his thighs, rubbing her toes down towards his, finally peeling over. Speaking nothing. ‘S’il te plaît, je t’en supplie,’ victoriously his love language conquered the war, but as if he cursed at her she swiftly jolted towards him. ‘How dare you awaken the beast!’ lunging at him and nipping at his ear, joy erupted within him stemming from him like branches on a tree. Awake and mine.

 

Resting her head on his chest, he quietly studied her. The love of his life, she was…is. In this airy space of time, it was hard to tell where his mind ventured. Unable to guarantee a future but wanted to be her home, he knew he would only disappoint her. Yet he feared to lose her. Allowing her to fantasize and speak of a life in which he couldn’t bear fruit, one they’d had countless bickerings and sleepless nights. The same one they’d spoken on a sunset ago but now the sun had finally risen and decision day sprung on them without warning. It felt too soon but in their hearts, they understood all things good had a deadline.
‘Je ne peux pas t’épouser et je suis désolé’, the words escaped from his lips without permission. Her body laid still, stiff and unresponsive he felt her die tragically upon him. His skin became damp, tears attacked his chest and stung like a million bees. He loved her too much to hold her captivate. Love made him lose her. But as any true love, it never dies.

Pinky Promise

I’ve realized I’m molding you into the man I hoped you would have been when we first met. Maybe our love was meant to teach and not to conquer the world. Maybe our matching scar was only meant to be a reminder of what could have been, not what’s destined. I haven’t told you about him yet but I know he’ll be known soon. For this, I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry.

Sin Thou Art Loose

I am the consolation between pain and wholeness, brokenness and love, where peace meets forgiveness. I am ready. I’ve been waiting for you my love so that I can sit on your lap and tell you stories of memories I’ve trapped inside my mind. Memories I play over and over and over again, to keep voices in tune may they never be forgotten. I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve kept parts of me locked away behind a door in the basement with padlocks and bolts, chained across the brim down to the footing. Waiting to release the goods and unleash my best self like a virgin to her forbidden sinner. I’ve been waiting. So here we are, ready together. ME. YOU. US. Welcome home.