I made a mistake of drinking wine last night.
I started seeing your name at the bottom of my glass. So I ran to the bathroom and poured it out into the basin. The kitchen zinc was closer. I can’t think straight when you echo in my head.
I made a mistake of reading a romance novel even when I knew it would scream out that I have no idea of the taste that your lips provide. I started hating my favorite author. Her words made me long for a touch I have not even felt. I poured myself another glass and started wondering what would the relationship between your hands and my skin be like. On my fourth glass I started rolling the idea of calling you on my tongue. It tasted vile. I’ve never been one to bask in tormenting knowledge that you might not pick up my call. Or you might have your lover’s head against your chest. So I drowned the fifth glass in haste. Praying she gives you all that you wish for.
I rolled my second blunt along with the letters of your name in it. I also put in the bit of dreams you’ve told me you have. I didn’t forget the parts of your soul you’ve let me take a glimpse of. I might have put in a bit of our love also, but I’m the one who’s in love here. You give yours to another. So I gave up the idea of our love. I didn’t smoke it though. I’m afraid all I’ve put in will go up in smoke and I might forget all about you.
I wonder if you’d tolerate my stoner tendencies and my love affair with wine. Those are the only things I’d cheat on you with. Except on the months that I carry your heir.
My mother spent the whole morning getting ready for church. I spent it smoking a blunt by my window and thinking about you. And when the sun rose there was so much beauty, I thought maybe that’s how it would look when our daughter finds her way outta my body one day. I don’t know why I would love to give you daughters even though I only want a son that looks like you. I imagine our daughters will have your serenity. It’s so hard today, to be black and have a vagina, you don’t know if they like your chocolate skin or just want to rub their dicks on your clitoris. Your serenity will carry them through.
I have my father. He tells me I carry myself like I’m his daughter. He tells me stories of when he met my mother. I want stories to tell our son too. My mother says I have a spirit like her mother-in-law. Fierce and a flame. I never met my grandmother. The earth swallowed her body before I was even conceived. I hope you let me name one of our daughters after her. I pray our daughters will meet their grandmother. She will tell them how she found me smoking a blunt by my window, thinking about their father. I hope they know they are born from love.
And so I skip church today. I can’t face people when my pillow was asking about you. I was so confused. You’ve never laid your head on my pillow. How does it know? It said lightly to me “you forget, we carry your tears when you miss him, are you saying we cannot tell when your whole body sweats from the dreams?”
I skip church because I cannot find God in high heels and people looking through me. Maybe I’ll find God one day wen you finally say my name. He will show Himself. I have no doubt of His existence. Because when I look at you I see proof that He is God. Sometimes when we talk, it sounds like God himself is holding my sanity in His hands, it’s like He’s whispering to me. I never tell you though. Lest you find me mad.
I know I am a foolish girl. I walk barefoot on the cold floor trying to feel something. The only thing that comes is the reality that you are not mine. And so 900hrs AM, I pour myself my first glass of wine, walk outside and laugh at my silly self. I know you underestimate the depths of my soul.
The gods have given up. They are contemplating disowning me.Advertisements