Couldn't have been love...

So many times, he’d say “I’ll be right back...”

I believed him, and with that look in his eyes I felt his truth

He promised me something, leaving me with a guarantee, certainty and his word

Tightly knotted with his, my heart felt the honesty in his voice

He never lied, he loved me

He loved me, I knew it

I knew him and I loved him

I watched him care for me always

He nurtured me, kissed me and splurged on me

He did things to my body and my mind would blast of ecstasy

His touches, kisses and love making tactics blew my every part

I could have never been ice, he melted me every time

He was mine and I was his

We shared not only t-shirts and secrets

We shared the sheets, cups and sweets

We shared a dime, our families and styles

I gave him my heart, I swear I had his

I walked the streets with joy

The love I got at home could catch me when I fall

I had eyes looking at me all the time with jealous minds and envious bitches eyeing shine

I thought they were jealous,

Then I heard a word; he hadn’t said things, he’d done things, I see

My sandcastle had collapsed, you see

This was a lie; he and I were a lifetime

We were more than just lust

My peace threatened to flee

NO! This was NOT the day

What were they doing to me? Breaking me?

The golden thread connecting his love to my heart a figment?

This was a lie; jealous minds and envious whores had spotted my shine

Because he loved me, he had to know

Good old us, were to deal with this; together

Mama, NO! He dealt with me, the way daddy dealt with you

Old memories emerged with shocking incidents, he was abusing me

He dealt with me, I could not believe

He’d mistaken strangles for stroking my throat

Coiled up in the same bed we’d lay in when he loved me, my ribs were in pain.

Today, he was hurting me, had he lost his magic?

Mama, he was NOT loving me, love had left our temple and it had dumped his sight
My screams cannot be heard unlike when I moan with him inside me

But, I had to ask him. Jealous minds and envious whores were denting us

But his punches were messing me

I see all we are had never been, his love had cost me a tooth,

And this way, I had never been free

In my face he’d set his footprint,

Then I knew he’d never loved me, he wanted to see me broken

My teardrops had built up streams, finding sanctuary on my scars

The most beautiful butterfly in my heart had died

As I looked up, I saw no glitter not even a star,

I saw a man whose expression was confronted by guilt

His penis had betrayed him; hence my love saw the door.

Happy read!

Me & Mr Jones: I remember

I remember having drinks with two friends; a very attractive guy and an elegant lady. To me this was a foreign land. A home and where school is for her, while this is where he use to study. Now, he only comes to visit his peers from church.
 
I was very familiar, and friendly with the double shots of Southern Comfort and lime I had in my hand. He was having the same while she went for something she felt was less 'hard', a Savanna.
 
With a cigarette at hand, she was blurting away. One would swear I have known her for ages, but I had just met her a few minutes ago. Thanks to Twitter, she asked to meet with me because she had heard of my PR proficiency. I'm not that good in the field, but I fitted her criteria of a young, vibrant, smart gay man.
 
We were chatting. She was enjoying us. He was entertaining. My Blackberry Messenger (BBM) was demanding my eye; Mr Jones was dining right across where we were. I wanted to see him. Gosh, I have been looking forward to this day.
 
I knew he was dark, but unsure of how tall he was. His Facebook photos depicted a tall skinny boy. Contrary to what he believed, he was good looking. He is near News Cafe, his text showed. I excused myself and up I went, carried away by self-reliance that would have fed a lot of starving children in Rwanda.
 
There he was. Cute, I muttered. He wasn't tall. He was not tall at all. He was still dark and very lovely though.
 
Hand shakes, wry smiles, hotness oozed between the two of us. Within a few seconds I had made him relax. Or had he made me relax? We were both not nervous; clearly we were two adults who were very much used to meeting strangers.
 
I walked him back to his res. At least I had established that he's not so busy, hence I had planned to have him hang with me, him and her. This was his territory, but I could tell that Mr Jones was did not go out much. Well, his time had come.
 
I went back strutting in excitement. I informed the crew that we will have a 'guest' among us. They got even more excited when they learn that I wanted to pursue Mr Jones.
 
I remember we moved from point A to B because freshmen are not allowed anywhere else except point B.
 
I remember the number grew from three; two men and a lady, to three men and a lady. The big man was in the midst. Rounds flew, allowing intoxication in the mind. By now everyone wanted to see Mr Jones. Right then, my BBM was buzzing. I'm here, where are you guys, his text showed.
 
He's here, I told the crew. I went to meet him halfway. He came to join us. Everyone loved him. Everyone loved him alright.
 
One drink too many. Stones was getting even more packed, but we had reserved our space so that we had enough to dance on. Or should I say that space was for me and me alone? I mean, I was the only one dancing.
 
I believe it was during my dancing that Mr Jones managed to forge, between himself and my male friend, what I had expected to develop between him and I.
 
I remember the big guy pulling me aside to ask me if I could see what was going on between the two. It was clear, but my mind was to slow to capture such disturbing moments. My friend entertaining my lovely Mr Jones, no harm in that, I thought.
 
I remember seeing their lips lock. I giggled, not because it was funny but, because it was strange just how roles have changed in one day, over few hours, between two good friends; all for a stranger. My then potential lover.
 
I remember the big guy and I waiting on Mr Jones and he to finish smooching. How lovely. No! How weird? Actually, ouch. Very ouch.
 
I remember confronting him inside a cab we took as we were heading home; to his place. "I can't believe you," I said, with a mouth that surely reeked of liquor. "Can we not talk about this now Dladla," he suggested. When was the right time? After they have established a solid foundation for their love for each other?
 
I remember, not hugging my friend when I left for work the next day. I remember nursing a weird pain in my belly every time their BBM statuses suggested they were together or going for a night out together. I remember forcing myself to accept that I had lost and my friend had won. I remember texting both of them wishing all the best.
 
To be honest, they made each other happy. I do believe they loved each other.
 
Despite what I thought in the beginning, me and Mr Jones could have never worked out. The fact that I was a R96 away while my friend was merely R20 confirmed this. Besides, Mr Jones was a student, something I had recently decided to stay away from. I, on the other hand, was very clingy; something that would have annoyed him to the point of ditching me.
 
I believe this is the realisation that brought me to man up and be 'happy' for Mr Jones and my friend. As a result, I had just the perfect idea. The plan was to invite both of them over at my place for a day or two. We would chill, eat and have fun just like old times.
 
The main idea here was to restore my friendship with my friend while setting things with Mr Jones to however they were before I found him appealing. Also, Mr Jones had never been to my house. He had always heard of the parties and braai that I usually host. Now, the time for him to come had arrived.
 
"When do you want to host us? Mr Jones and I have broken up," text from him showed. I gasped alone in a taxi home.
 
I remember feeling anger intensifying inside me. I almost lost a friendship with him. For what? A fling? Couldn't they have worked harder on whatever the problem was? After all the shit their relationship put me through, they failed to nurture what they have started? Actually, I was hurt. For what? Just for a spare of the moment kind of thing?
 
It's like they were both spiting me, with him saying let me get the taste of what my friend was after while Mr Jones pursued his inquisitiveness in regards to how it feels to be with the friend of the guy who wanted him.
 
I feel their relationship cost me. Now they threw all that away. Just when I was beginning to get my head around the idea of them dating.
 
Happy read!

Disfigured, yet fall in love

I love walking. I love walking to the Spar down the street from my house when I've ran out of bacon, to Campus square when I want to do my groceries or to 7th when I feel like a night or a day out.
 
Sometimes, I try and convince my house mate - who drives - to walk with me when we go for grocery shopping. "I didn't buy this car so that I could leave here and walk," he would reply with his British twang.
 
A few times we have walked; me and him, or me with whoever is my visitor on a certain day and whether or not the visitor owns a car.
 
During my walks, I get to notice and value the structure and magnificence of the area in which I stay. I get to admire the trees; the wind blowing in between the twigs giving freedom to leaves that find their way to my dreadlocks. As green or emaciated those leaves are, I smell them.
 
I appreciate nature and on top of that I value and admire the unknown women and men I see on the streets. How well built they are, sexy and how smartly dressed - or not – they are.
 
As I go the opposite direction, I wonder if the person passing me is the person whom I'm meant to date or marry; my Mr Right sort of thing. I wonder if the stranger I just passed will ever come into my life. If he does, will he form part of the list of people whom I value or merely add to that which is filled by the men who have caused me nothing but hurt?
 
Why does it matter though, I ask myself. I mean what we expect, rather I expect, from the people I know sometimes come from strangers. The disappointment that I would expect from strangers, or lack of care thereof, has become something I get habitually from the people I know. At times, those we know hurt us so bad that our trust gets bruised and damaged. Particularly when it comes to relationships.
 
This is very true. I know so because I have experienced it; thanks to one of my Mr Rights who turned out to be not-so right for me. I spoke to him a few days back, and throughout our conversation, he showed me an attitude that shocked me a bit. I loved this guy. He loved me too, I felt it. I knew him so well. We were crazy about each other. Of course, this was up until he cheated on me with a guy he met in my room.
 
His work in breaking my heart went further when, after the guy he cheated on me with, he went for one of my closest whom I once dated. This is something that left me broken and damaged, and I have been living with this thing inside since it happened three years ago.
 
I hated him most of the time. I wished all the bad things upon him.
 
All that has now vanished, because I have forgiven him. Unfortunately, I cannot just forget. I think that is why I gathered the courage to speak to and interrogate him in regards to what he did to me.
 
"I'm so shocked you still thinking about this. We were young Dladla," he responded. Is he serious? Did he expect me to just forget about the fact that he lied to me and pretended as if he loved me? We were young? Young and yet able to do things only old people are meant to do? Young but introduced me to his aunts and his grandmother? Young but had the ability to deceive me? He cheated and yet he blames that on being young? He must have swapped his brains for bigger balls.
 
I became angry all over again. It was all good, I guess, that we were communicating via BBM. Otherwise, had he been in front of me, things would have turned ugly. This is the first guy whom I fell in love with. It was with him that I learnt what really takes place when two gay men are naked underneath blankets. Now, he expected me to just forget about it and the fact that he hurt me just like that? This boy is crazy.
 
Yes, his response to my questions disturbed me a bit. He did come across like he was making a mockery of the fact that I once loved him and believed he loved me. It was as if he was laughing at me for walking around with this thing inside me.
 
This is someone I knew. This is boy was once a stranger whom I probably walked passed on the streets thinking "Mh, nice..." But now, I knew him and he knew me and he treated me as if I am some stranger who does not deserve his apology or genuine compassion. On the face of it, he found me stupid and very childish.
 

Despite his view of the whole matter, this boy hurt me. He broke my heart and left me with a scar that dented my trust a bit. Yet, I still fall in love.

With that having happened; my relationship with him, his with the boy he cheated on me with and with an ex of mine whom I had become very good friends prior their affair; I stand tall with a very positive attitude in regards to love and relationships. I still believe in love. I still believe that I will come across a guy who will do what I expected this guy to be.
 
Happy read!

Doing him...

Naked, skinny, sticky me on top of his white chocolate skin

I lied and said I will be quick.  I said I will not be going in.

But I found myself deep inside him.

Intending to draw where he stands, I locked my eyes in his.

His lips found a way to mine.

Maybe he bit me, I don’t recall.

While he moaned, I felt his hands searching my body. I growled.

We wanted something. We were about to share.

Scars on my back grew, a sign that he receives my gift.

He cried in ecstasy.

I held close his diminutive round bun, preventing resistance from his part.

He pushed. I thrust. He screamed. I went harder.

It’s coming, he said.

Then receive me, I whispered

My pace picked up while my fore-waist fought his manly hands.

I am not hurting him. I love him.

I felt he was hungry. I had to feed him.

I released my whole inside him

Baby, I love you. Baby, I love you.

At least, I am showed him.

I thrust even harder, going even faster.

I am not myself, I am his.  

My part wholly inside him, his body went rigid.

He was still breathing. So, he was alive.

Like ice, he melted and I died on top of him.

Happy read!

Past, my dear friend

Life is full of gorgeous moments. With those moments, of course, where all that the physical eye sees and the mind understands as murky. Wise minds, nonetheless, spend most of their time working on what seems to make them happy. The aim being to develop a sustainable way of living a happy life. 'Some' people spend their time feeling sorry for the things that go wrong in their lives as opposed to - at least - trying to sort their problems out or finding ways to deal with THEM.
 
This perspective of mine is stirred by my everyday living which is never unwavering. Well, I face challenges just everyone else, but like the wise minds, I choose to focus on developing sustainable ways of living my life happily.
 
This works. Living happily that is. However, I have come to realise that, I carry my past with me and I have been doing so for most of my life. This means that my past basically has a say in most of the moves I make to create a future for myself. This becomes a problem, as a result because I was brought up in an environment where my mentality was shaped to believe that the past has no place in the future. The irony, subsequently, is the fact that the decisions I make today are based on what happened yesterday.
 
This realisation (of my past smooching my future) sprang to mind when I had friends over, this past week, for a movie; The killer inside me. A movie they found traumatic due to its ‘disturbing’ and very graphic brutality. Halfway through a scene where a woman repeatedly gets punched on the face by a man, they demanded I take it out. I did.
 
My friends failed to understand how I could watch such a movie to the end, let alone recommend it to them. I had to explain; digging back in my past how I use to despise my step father who created a punch bag out of my mother to the point of bleeding, how i wished evil upon him to how miserable he is these days.
 
Sharing with them this, I didn't cry but deep down something was tearing me apart. Clearly I have grown and matured over the years or I have learnt to hide this particular pain so well. My body felt weird though, while my voice reached an even higher note.

The discussion grew, leading to some –in fact all the others- sharing what they know in regards to physical abuse. It was at that stage that I realised that this movie shook me up (even the first time I watched it) and it opened wounds I thought were healed. Well, the wounds have healed, but the issue remains that whatever happened between my mother and step father affected me strongly, and somehow has affected the way I do things or respond to delineation of physical abuse. This is what my friends found very creepy.

My ‘father’ may not have physically abused me like my mother, well not that much, but I was around every time the fights took place. Because of that, my emotions were bruised, my mind was dented and my heart damaged.  
 
The fact that I managed to sit and take in what all my friends considered repulsive behaviour hit me and it scared me. I’m assuming my friends thought I did not find the movie disturbing or maybe I suggested the movie thinking it is funny.

Happy read!