I still love you

His eyes were empty. Cold. Alien.

I still love you.  

The words were strung together loosely, casually. It reminded me of a habit, the thing you do over and over and over, eventually resulting in the action losing all or any meaning. However the comfort kept us attached, even if the reason for the action eluded us. That was what our love was. A habit, a source of comfort. That was what time and effort and commitment did to our love; it reduced it to nothing more than a guilty afterthought.    

I just don’t want you anymore.

For some reason rejection seems to always be the worst fear, the scariest demon. For some reason rejection… especially unreasonable rejection seems to leave scars that never heal. And honestly, which kind of rejection is reasonable? We are raised thinking we are special and beautiful and talented. Why would anyone who tells us we are not quite what we were taught to believe be considered reasonable?

His eyes flickered towards me – cold, dark. I could see the anticipation of a reaction.

I remember the first time I saw those eyes; warm and fuzzy and bright. I remember looking into his eyes and believing he could never lie to me because I would always be able to look at him, meet his gaze, and read the truth; I would always be able to see his thoughts as clear as I could see his expressions on his face.

Those beautiful clear blue eyes had managed to wash my fears away like frothing waves of salty ocean water, licking over the sand before darting back from where it came, carrying my heavy thoughts and daunting fears with it. Those eyes would always keep me safe, they would always show me what honesty and happiness was meant to be.

But now, looking up at him, I could only see the eyes of a stranger. The eyes of a man I could not bear to look at, could not imagine holding, or loving. Those eyes terrified me. I wondered who had scooped my eyes, the eyes I had fallen in love with, out of his skull like wobbly jelly on a silver spoon, and replaced them with the dark beady eyeballs of this stranger. I believed he had been my prince charming. Now I knew he had not saved me from anything.

No one ever tells you that the fairy tales lie. No one ever mentions the cheating spouse, the pregnant teen, the heartbroken widow. Convenience leaves out the ugly truth and raises us on luxurious day dreams with shining coats of armour and golden crowns and gleaming happily ever afters.

There is no happy ending. I knew this, I had always known this. But he made me forget. And now, he punished me for it.

I still love you.

I tried not to shake. His hand came out to grab me. I pulled away.

Nothing’s changed.

No, I replied, meeting those unfamiliar eyes for one last time.

Everything has changed. 

Nonsense Poetry: Bucky plays Hide and Seek

Mucky lucky bucky

Had a

Wobbly Bobbly Woe

Because

Doobly Deeply Reeby

Kept telling him to go

“Oh Go! Sweet lucky Boo”

Before ten counts me to two

If Reeby Doobly

Dee

Nom bobbly wobbly woe

If mucky finds he me

Then bye

 bye

woe

woe

Bye bye

Forever to bed you go. 

The Beautiful Woman

The beauty of the woman is gripping,

You watch as she sits in her marble throne.

Her bare splendour chains you to her bidding,

One glance and she chills you to the bone.

Her blond hair sits atop her head,

One strand falling down the nape of her neck.

Like a needle with a tail for a thread,

Like a cyclone, havoc her beauty wrecks.

With every breath, she whirls her observer’s heart,

For it is a man, caught in her snare.

He was trapped from the start,

Her beauty almost too much to bear.

And still she continues to breathe.

And breathe.

And breathe.

My South Africa

                                                                            

It is the yellow which signifies generosity. It is the white which signifies peace and honesty. It is the red; hardiness, bravery, strength and bloodshed. It is the blue; vigilance, truth, loyalty, perseverance, justice and the open blue skies. It is the green; hope, joy and love for the land. And it is the black; determination.

My South Africa is a country that has one race which is South African. It is a place where every single person knows the meaning of our national anthem and where diversity is welcomed, not chased away by the hate and cruelty of xenophobia. My South Africa is a place where people can invite complete strangers into their homes to eat a meal with their families.

My South Africa is a hospital with a doctor who was the top in his class, not one who was chosen because of his skin colour. It is a school with students who work relentlessly to achieve good results. It is not a crumbling building in Khayelitsha whose learners sit back and accept mediocrity. My South Africa is a country where all students know that were you come from does not define who you are.

My South Africa is a place where a woman can walk down a street, in the dark, safely. It is a place where every household owns recycling bins. It is a country where the white people can pronounce ‘Zimkhitha’ without changing it to ‘Patience’ because of their foolish pride. My South Africa is where every single child owns at least one schoolbook and a pair of school shoes.

My South Africa is not a parliament’s assembly who passes a secrecy bill for the government. It is not the xenophobic attacks fuelled from jealousy and fear of the unknown. It is not the Afrikaans farmers who pay their workers with alcohol as it is not the workers who spend their earnings on a couple of ‘dops’. It is not the many rape-victims or the mangy, starving dogs that live on the side of the road. My South Africa does not divide people in any way.

My South Africa does not have politicians infected by corruption. It does not boast democracy when a great many children and women’s rights are silenced by offenders who go unpunished. It does not shackle its’ population with poverty because of the unavailability of education. My South Africa does not have leaders who use the poor to hide behind. 

My South Africa is a place that I would be proud to call home. It is a label I would gladly wear. My South Africa is a rainbow nation of people who are unique but not selfish. It has citizens who stand up for their rights and understand their responsibilities. My South Africa holds fifty million people who eat supper and sleep in a warm bed every night.

My South Africa is a haven of rich culture and boundless nature. It holds rugged beauty in its landscape and an untamed freedom that crashes on its shores and froths in its oceans.

My South Africa is home.

The Pianist

Her fingers were poised above the keys,
Black on white they bowed before her.
Skin crawling with the expectation of a hidden crowd,
Though veiled by darkness, the whispering was unusually loud.  

However her ears didn’t hear,
The conversations all around,  
Her eyes didn’t see,
The faces that needn’t be found.

Then without warning her performance begun,
She ended the noise, like death ends execution.
This musician becomes a translator,
Interpreting the complex language of her composer.

She threw herself at the piano,
His battle cry rang out,
She could feel the composer’s fury,
She could hear him shout.  

And then as quick as the onslaught, his anger did subside,
Her hands touched and palms kissed as they arrived.
However the reunion was bitter, she could taste his misery,
Tears trickled down her cheeks as she described such agony.

But as the composition came to an end,
She allowed some happiness to filter into the sound.
In this piece he would be remembered forever.
She stood, and applause came from all around.

Give and Take II

I gave everything to you.
You took it without a thought.

My love, my life, the air I breathe,
Everything that belonged to me you sought.

You watched me watch you every day.
You took my will to leave.

I gave you my love; I’m left with obsession.
To that you did agree.

Some take it as infatuation,
They say it’ll die out soon.

But the thing that took my freedom,
Forced me to give everything to you.

Give me back my will to breathe,
No, second thought, do not.

Without you I do not care,
You are all I’ve got.

What I give to you,
Is all I’ve got to give.

I’d rather have you take from me,
I do not need anything else to live.

Some might call you evil,
Some take to you with regret.

Then I too am selfish,
For everything you have I get.

Give and Take I

When you give to the one you love,
You usually give too much.

I guess it’s simply human nature,
To give and give, as such.

And when you give so much it hurts.
What is there to gain?

Some won’t understand why you do it.
When all you get is pain.

So now I ask; why even bother?

You do not know,
You cannot answer.

You simply will not stop.