“The purpose of poetry is to remind us how difficult it is to remain just one person,” – Czes
“How far have you walked for men who have never held your feet in their laps” – Warsan Shire
“I read the way a person might swim, to save his or her life. I write that way too” – Mary Oliver
” They told me I’m too young to let the world break me. I told them I’m too young to stop the world from breaking me”
“You could push me off a cliff and I’d hit the ground apologizing for standing so close to the edge”
I’m not looking for someone to save me. But you see, talking to you makes me wish I could right wrongs and not poems.
I wonder if you can tell sometimes that I wann wrap you around my existence. I want to taste you at the back of my throat, like smoke. I’d lose myself in your smile. I’d make love to you, at sea in the middle of a lightning storm. If you had to break me I’d hold my ribcage open for you to rip out my heart and leave me dying. I’d let you because I’d rather be left dead than to never know the sound of a whirling storm.
I wonder when you read this. Will you know, will the spaces between my words whisper to you and tell you this is about you. Or you will be ignorant to them, thinking they are just blank spaces, when they spell out your name.
Maybe you will simply think about the woman you love, who happens to not be the writer of this poem.
Maybe God doesn’t allow your being to take over my sanity. My mind already makes space in my head for you to sit. He knows you would be my undoing. That if we touched I’d never be able to peel you off my skin. Maybe He knows that love like this is only for angels. Not humans who take it for granted. Not humans with a dozen sins and no idea of how to repent.
I’d repent all my sins if He gave me you. You would be my new beginning. If he gifted me wit you, I’d write you love poems constantly. I’d let your love grow inside of me as it becomes the fruit of my loins. I’d learn how to dance so that when words fail me, when I’m too overwhelmed to speak, I’d dance for you and show you how much I love you.
I made a vow wit the gods. That I would forget about you. We have meetings every now and then, myself and my gods. They ask me why are the skies dark? You know child, when you think about him, the stars die and the moon collapses.
Yet here I am, writing letters I cannot send.
“Because when moments like this begin, your body becomes religion and I not having all of you is tantamount to sin.” – Nova Masango”