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My Mind= Field | My Feelings= Ball

Falling in love with fire,
an obsessive, compulsive liar,
was the most exhausting thing
that I had ever done
since the very minute
that I was born.

He would say,
‘Air, you need to come on stronger
if you want to have me.”
So, I would give him more air,
and we would start a fire right there.

Then he would say,
“woah, this is too much for me;
you’re going to blow me out.
If you don’t leave me be for as long as I need,
you will go many days without.”
So, of course, I would withdraw,
until our fire was no more.
It made my soul so sore.

Extremely hot,
extremely cold.
Extremely fickle,
nothing to mold.
Extremely mean,
no heart to hold.
I never told him off;
I was never so bold.

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Love and War

Sonali-_Everything_is_fair_in_love_and_war

“Everything Is Fair In Love And War” by Debajyoti Das , Raiganj

He always had to be right so I left;
we both had to win so we lost each other. 

“Us” Died

Our light became darkness.
Our love became hatred.
Our laughter became silence.
Our future became our past.
I knew “our” was dying
the day you came home with “my”.


“Our penis” became “my penis”.
“Our children” became “my children”.
“Our house” became “my house”.
“Our mother” became “my mother”.

Today Was Tomorrow

Mulata

Mulata em Rua Vermelha, 1960

I was too busy wondering if you
would still love me tomorrow,
too busy to sense that our today was tomorrow.
Our very beginning was our end;
our tomorrow did not exist.
It was all far too torn for us to mend.

I feel stupid for giving our children names-
the ones we were supposed to have,
the ones we would never have
because “we” itself was struggling to breathe,
because “we” itself was dying.

Poetree

It’s poetree.
Butter doesn’t help it grow;
dung does.
Comfort won’t make it flow;
chaos will.

You might be surprised at
the number of times you’ll give
hand-jobs to pens in one day
as soon as your heart gets wounded,
as soon as it begins to stink.

Your hand will move across paper,
and back again,
till undiluted pain rushes into your fingers-
pain, like pus,
deposited into your bloodstream from your heart.

You’ll bleed ink and
carve your blood into words;
you’ll come, on paper,
so you can maintain your composure
and manage the hard time,
even if you can’t get closure,
even if the words don’t rhyme.

No Clay for You Anymore

Peju Alatise

Peju Alatise’s Art

I put my heart and soul into
molding a clay pot for you.
You didn’t ask or beg me to,
but for some reason, at that time,
it was the thing that I cared most about.

In the course of molding and shaping,
I asked if you would let me drink
from it when I was done,
from you,
if I ever got thirsty.

Looking back, I’m not sure if I had asked for too much,
or I had said something terribly wrong,
because the resounding “no!” that I heard
cut me deep in the soul.

At that time, I would have become water for you
whenever you were thirsty,
if you wanted me to.
I would have fed you milk from my breasts
and honey from between my thighs if you wanted,
and maybe that was too much.
Maybe too much was asking for me instead,
so he could cut me in the throat.

On my 21st birthday,
you told me to break the clay pot,
and when I was done with breaking it,
you stepped on it.

Testamendo-de-divorciado.jpg

I cried and begged and said
I could start all over again,
and I was sorry,
and I wasn’t one to use clay pots,
and I didn’t really want to drink with yours,
and I loved and fantasized about plastic plates instead,
and my question was hypothetical,
but you didn’t want to hear it.

I got so vulnerable around you,
and I always wanted to tell you everything,
and maybe I shouldn’t have been like that, you know,
maybe I should have kept some things to myself.

Ten days of depression.
Ten weeks of uncontrollable tears.
In ten weeks, I gained so much weight.
In the next ten weeks, I lost so much,
so much weight,
so much happiness,
so much zeal,
so much reason to live,
so much you.

Before the spirits took me away,
I looked for you
and waited for you
and cried for you but
I didn’t see you.

Where were you?

It’s the tenth month, and you’re back,
not for me,
not for the pot,
but for the clay.

You’re going to pretend like you didn’t squish the clay?
Like it’s a sweet new day today?
Like you didn’t send me away,
and nothing happened yesterday?

The karmic tie is broken
and I’m done.
Stay in your lane
and I’ll stay in mine.

I wanted to squish you
the way you did me.
My goodness,
I was a sensitive thing.
It’s not worth it anymore,
those days have passed,
and I’m glad that I, at least,
got to kick you at last.

 

He’s Commitment Phobic

Primavera, 24x24, oil on panel

Primavera, 24×24, oil on panel by Richard J Demato

He dug so perfectly well
and worked very hard,
but as soon as he came to the water of life,
he went from being so good
to being very bad.
He took to his heels as fast as he could,
and lost the nourishment that all
his work was supposed to bring.
Isn’t it unfortunate that a well-digger is dying of thirst
because of his fear of water?


Brief Analysis: When a man hops from woman to woman, he lives a very empty, unfulfilled life. “Digging through a well” is used as a metaphor for having sex in this short poem. It’d be silly, of course, or stupid, to think that is all a woman- a whole magnificent being- is good for. If you are lucky enough to get a woman who loves you and is willing to be and stay with you, it’d be unfortunate to not appreciate that, and recognize that with her by your side, there is nothing you can’t do.

Liar

Nine of Swords

Nine of Swords. Rider-Waite Deck.

The roses are dead;
I am blue.
Not one thing you said
was fully true.

Don’t Live in Denial

When someone shows you
who they really are,
you must believe them.
Don’t live in denial.
Make no excuses for them.
Go over what you learnt
from your experience with them,
forgive yourself for everything
you think you did wrong,
and move on.

Exist in the present,
bury the dead feelings that have
made your heart their home,
and leave it all behind.
Live.


UNREQUITED LOVE:

There are two kinds of abuse in love. The first kind is the one you suffer from before the other person shows you who they really are and what they really want. The abuser would be them if it’s the first kind, because they can’t really decide if they want you or not, at your own expense. They’re not sure if they love you, so they want you to wait till they make up their mind.

The other kind is self-inflicted. Someone bluntly says they don’t love you or they don’t want to have anything to do with you and you say “oh, I mustn’t pay any attention to that. He’s a Pisces. He’s just being his moody self; there’s nothing wrong here,” or someone refuses to return your calls and messages and you say “you know how these INFP Capricorns and Scorpios are, plus his grandma’s sister’s daughter’s baby daddy’s second cousin’s niece died, so he’s probably just in a bad mood or busy with work”. No, what are you doing?

The other person/party wouldn’t be at fault in cases like the second one. It’s up to you to jolt out of this terrible, energy-sucking fantasy that you have placed yourself in.

Ask yourself, “what good is this unbalanced, abusive union or lack thereof to me?” If your answer is “none”, you can make a change right there and then. You can cry if you need to. You have to make yourself happy again, without them. 

You wouldn’t need to worry about, or be unsure if someone loves you if they do, because it will be clear; it will be as clear as a bright, sunny day.

The key to the prison in your heart is in a safe place in your mind. In cases of unrequited love, one must accept the challenge of thinking more and feeling less. Feeling and daydreaming, till it begins to affect your health, will affect you very badly. It will make you useless to yourself. It’s hard, but one must die first to possess eternal life. Stop living in denial. Let go! 🌻 “Alaafia.” 💛🍯

The Real Star

We
all
know
that
the
real
star
among
the
lot
is
the
moon

Why don’t you be yourself?
Why don’t you be, yourself?

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