Potable water under the bridge

All it took was to lay my eyes on you, and all the 2008 memories sailed back. That brief five seconds I held you in my arms felt like infinity and right there I knew I’d be seeing you again, very soon. That knowledge became a reality that night and the day after until I realised, just like it once dawned on me seven years ago, we’re going nowhere slowly.

What is different this time around is the fact that I am wide awake and for once it looks as if you’re wounded by my maturity and disappointed that I found it easy to leave and never called; so much so you saw it fitting to antagonize my unfamiliar demeanors.

I’ll admit, I missed you. In fact, I want to be with you right this minute. Perhaps this is possible in my thirties – not in my twenties. Maybe you really are the love of my life and that your lingering taste in my mouth will be something I invigorate for as long as I find you sexually attractive. It’s also possible that you and I will merely live in sin and will continue to regularly make romantic and sexual overtures towards each other, and subsequently live to be loathed by many.

Drafting this post, it feels like I’m 22 years old all over again. God knows; I see you, I just want to fuck your brains out. The fact that your memories of me are simply the best and that in your mind I’m an angel is not helping. The fact that we both know that, every now and then, I romanticize the idea of having you stimulate my anterior rectal wall is not helping. The fact that there the question of whether or not I’d enjoy this remains a mystery is not helping.

One minute, I see us working. But knowing that you have no intention to even try and understand the concept of conciliation in our situation dislocates all prospects. Honestly, I despise this about you – which makes me wonder why I still hold you in such high regard to the extent that your soft sneeze would tear the impenetrable membrane that covers my heart.

Other times, the reality is inevitable and of course excruciating just by observing my friends’ facial expressions whenever your name comes up then I’m subjected to “are you okay?” and “say one word, and I’ll make him disappear” or “you don’t have to see him” sentiments. This is all because they care. Yet, here we are; entertaining the idea of making it work knowing very well this would never work. My poor friends…

Man, I love you. But this has to stop.

You have to work with me and help me let you go. Please help me stop hoping that one day you and I will run away together. Help me stop thinking that one day you will change for me or that I’d ever accept your irrational and selfish justifications.

There is a high possibility I’m lying to myself and that I’m fighting the inescapable; you and I truly belong together. Perhaps, I have to go back and experience once more what used to be in order to swiftly move on to the next chapter. A big part of me wishes that I’d pretend to make it work and have you hurt me in every sense of the word. Maybe then, it would be easy letting you go. But I also know for sure that doing this will damage my career; the one thing that seems to bring me constant joy. So, no.

I don’t know what to do.

Happy read!

The last days

You would swear there was never a start to begin with. The beauty of a gloomy winter’s day vanishes, and a summer’s day becomes a total contrast to what your skin once felt. This is nothing more than the ending.

 

Once upon a time, you believed and trusted in a cybernetic conception your mind centered on grounds societies believe to be concrete. The grounds are firm. The hands that lay the bricks are in question. Whose hands could they be? They are not mine. You claim they are not yours too. No one wants to take the blame.

 

Almost always, the dead take the blame. We will find ourselves wanting to blame the dead and absent figures for the same responsibilities our hearts dared us to carry Unlike a crossroad; flanked by options from all remits, further routes begin and come to an end where your toenails cease to grow.

 

Where you are standing is all there is. At this point, reality is harsh and the view from the back cooks pain that is too much to bear. Your shoulders have not become broader as a man by virtue of growing testosterone; your shoulders have carried this same experienced before.

 

Woman, your breasts have not just protruded as a reaction to affluent penises; your heart has been beaten hard, once again. It is swollen. For unknown reasons, our foreheads are like those of our fathers, except something as petty as affection makes ours spurt sweat; unlike theirs.

 

Each day we live, we crawl towards achieving our heart longings; you could find us talking even when no one is paying attention. We believe people hear us. The same people we hold up high. Yet they are betrayed by their actions towards us, and we still intend to follow.

 

Many have come and gone, leaving scars of betrayal and ungratefulness. A few have stayed in the form of the packages we have become; independent and hold an objective aimed at the same satiation. With them, we lose every bit of fear, stretch the hand and reach for their intentions.

 

Today, we have broad shoulders and big breasts that can narrate our pains, but I believe we are still not listening. No matter how many times the dawn seizes the moment; accentuating ills ahead, one yearns to be important in someone’s life and one preys after individuals who can satiate this thirst.

 

Happy read!

Painful youth

Poor boy. He is now a man.

Thanks to a Xhosa tradition, his education and disparaged upbringing; he possesses the mother of all determinations. His personality launches him to the elite. And you wonder how he got to taste and love dry red wine.

He works. He loves his colleagues. He’s dubbed the best thing to ever happen to corporate communication, since the invention of corporate institutions.  His strength of mind directs him ahead; that is where he sees a ladder. Hence he holds close the intention to climb.

His work may have to speak for him, he is confident. The impertinence flowing from allies does not faze him, yet it clouds his footsteps.

Happy read!