I felt your touch for what it was

     -a touch, and not a caress.

I felt your grasp for what it was 

     -a grip, and not embrace.

And when I held you in my arms, I held you like you do a liquid, with certainty that is was not solid enough to hurt you,

Yet disappointed at how easily it slipped through your cupped hands without ever quenching your thirst.


The War

The War

Loving you was like going to war, I was never home for my return.

I had dragged home into the battle field on the front line. The welcome home fire place that burned was an automic bomb of goodbyes that exploded from kissing lips. My arms swung around the cold metal in an intimate embrace, I pulled the trigger in a rainfall of bullets that poured like a storm cloud of cupid’s arrows.
That bastard is a liar.

No casualties found, no civilians harmed just a fist full of lies to punch fluttering butterflies out my gut. Just veterans with ghost limbs to wear like glistening badges of honour, like when our armour was taken off and words fired at bare chests like 50 calibre bullets of feeling and numbness and blood. And a hankerchief to wipe the tear on the skin, to hold the face together. Hold your face up to the one you fight and the one you love with battle scars like a braille erotica novel.  Your hand once touched me before your gun did. You once fired my belly with mustard gas, and all butterflies fell to the hard floor to harden, like how all men do after a war.

You’re a cold, cold war. Your fire jet planes disappear into the warmth of the sun but drop heavy, heavy kamikaze pilot corpses. I fell in love with the art of your war, but my only weapon was my self destruction in your cardio vascular muscle, between expansion and retraction, a Trojan horse in the centre of your atrium.

I’m sorry the war had to end that way, but loving you was like a war and I was never home for my return.

A song about healing.

A song about healing.

(India Arie’s music has become my go to place for the theme music of my twenties. She has this deep sense of longing to know herself more, to find peace, love, happiness and balance. This song is titled Good Mourning, when I play it, I think about how heavy the grief of losing someone you love can be, but how the grief can turn out to be heavier than a lost ones absence. And when the grief dissipates, so does the weight of carrying company that is not necessary or doesn’t add value to your life.

I also think how important it is too greet yourself every morning, all the components of you, the sad, the bitter, the happy, the memory, to address loss and longing once you are no longer waiting on the good morning text from another. Say good morning to yourself, and in the mist of the grief, make it a good mourning -find that point in your solitude that makes it all make sense)

Good morning silence, Good morning to myself
Good morning to the pain in the center of my chest

It’s crazy how much I miss a simple good morning kiss

Good morning independence
Or is it loneliness?
I know I said I wanted this
But I have regrets…

I prayed for God’s will will to be done

        -The very next day you were gone….

And good morning to the harsh realities of life,
And good morning to the fact we’re not husband and wife…

We made a promise to stay…

      -but destiny got in the way

Good morning acceptance.

Good morning inner strength.

I’m loving every moment even the strain,

It’s crazy how much I miss a simple good morning kiss,

It’s crazy how much I’ve missed.
Now it’s time for me to live

Good morning optimism,
Good morning to my faith,
Good morning to the beginning of a brand new day

I know that God’s will will be done…

     -So I lay down my pain and I’m moving on

I know that God’s will will be done
It’s a good morning after all!