MOURNING...

Have you ever mourned, the loss,

Of self? 

I walk down my memories. 

Seeing what was once a familiar person,

I try to match the eyes, skin, expressions.  

Back in reality, the mirror,

I’m met with sad, dim eyes. 

Cracked,

Where there were once sparks. 

Skin, dull, rough. 

You can see exhaustion. 

Constantly. 

Smiles that seem forced,

A laugh with no heart or soul,

An act of being ok. 

I can tell. 

My past self feels outside of current me. 

An existence of long ago. 

How did she hold onto

Peace, hope, joy and laughter?

I’ve forgotten. 

Doesn’t seem like I ever have...held on. 

It’s hard to make efforts now. 

This self feels like a shell,

Hallow and empty 

But heavily weighted.  

Breaking my back, lowering my head. 

My heart is heavy,

Yearning,

Questioning what went wrong, 

When her other self passed. 

Did she pass?

Is she lost?

Can we be back?

I try to reach for her. 

She’s a great distance away. 

I want to close the gaps

But at every turn, the path back changes.  

I find no joy in doing the things she did. 

I try, I fail. 

That’s our bridge. 

It’s fading. Losing our connection. 

Yes, I am mourning, the loss of myself. 

Drift

I hold my affections in my hands

With no place to channel it,

No one to hold it.

Just me. 

I look at it in all its abandonment 

And I hold it close,

Because it has no one.

As I don't. 

I learnt to not have my heart on my sleeve. 

I learnt to barely keep my heart within me. 

I’ve drifted my heart and affections far,

Hoping to be the only one capable of hurting me. 

So what happens now?

I send them off like Moses,

Blanketed. Secured. 

Drifted. Away. 

For the time being, they will be away from me,

I’ll be pain-free. 

Numb. 

It doesn’t end here. 

Because I hope,

It finds a home. 

Acceptance. 

Reciprocity. 

Maybe for once, my affection won't know neglect. 

It could blossom. 

Grow. 

Thrive. 

If it doesn’t then it shall drift and drift. 

If abandoned again,

I shall bid another farewell 

And bid as many as I have to. 

The end game is to feel (love or) nothing at all. 

River Boy

River boy. 

I want to dip into you, 

I gravitate to you,

Something pulls me in. 

A little bit of current events,

I’m swayed 

By your waves. 

Moving in my mind, us,

Side to side,

A dance of love,

Swirling, round

Together, synchronised. 

Sometimes it’s like

I’m floating, suspended, 

Caressed 

By the touch of the river. 

I could drown in you,

Easily. 

Be filled up,

Complete drenched. 

Our love would be interesting,

Fluid like the river in you. 

Strong, stable,

Like the mountains I come from. 

River Boy, too bad I don’t swim. 

You

Sometimes the sunken place

calls a little too loudly,

appears a little bit too close,

seems a little too familiar. 

Sometimes sitting here

in this hole

is all I know

all I can do. 

Wouldn't it be so nice

not to know you,

not to be closer to you than any other person. 

So nice. 

We've gone without each other,

Sometimes,

Been a distant memory, a past event

to each other. 

But we're at crossroads again,

would you pull me in,

would I walk away?

I don't want to know you, the emptiness can't take over.

CrushED

Her eyes stalked his every move,

Her heart could track him without a GPS,

His steps were carved on every heartbeat. 

What was this obsession? 

When did she become like this?

One human consumed her;

She was drowning in emotions she could not control,

That she couldn’t comprehend, 

That she didn’t want.

Here was a free bird who kept herself free-

Suppressed, constrained by her own heart.

She felt the weight of his presence 

Like thick smoke choking the atmosphere;

She was longing for what her mind didn’t want,

What was her nightmare 

I AM NOT WIFE MATERIAL

Contrary to popular opinion

I was not born to be a wife.

That is not the only standard of my life.

You are not my saviour

And marriage is not my heaven.

My body,

My heart,

My soul,

My abilities,

Are not for your consumption.

I wasn’t made for your pleasure,

I was made for His pleasure.

I am the Bride of he who died

So that I may rise.

Rise to life.

Rise to wholeness.

Rise to purpose.

To make me yours 

You need to be His first.

You need to understand my existence, 

And yours,

In the grander scale of His plans.

So no, I am not wife material,

At least not yours,

I am already a Bride with full knowledge of her Bridegroom.

If it be His will, then you may be a partner, 

With equal rights here and in heaven,

With equal rights to his love,

And His purpose. 

I am many faces of womanhood and humanity 

So I am not just wife material.

Happy International Women's Day xxx.