I had a story to write,
My heart, glad as it was urged my mind to get ready for it.
So, I went and bought everything I need to write,
Three dozen sets of pencils, cute sharpeners and erasers…
I had a story to write,
Oh love of mine, as soon as I sharpened that first pencil…the words fled.
Now I have thirty six pencils, two sharpeners and two erasers…staying up late waiting for the words to come staggering back home.
“Sometimes, your refuge becomes your cage,” you say this and look outside the window.
If I were a Sketch Artist, I could capture the planes of your jaw…
I would dab that jaw line with coal and sprinkle a pinch of ash, for the grey that’s your soul.
“What color is my soul?” I ask.
You laugh, an easy laugh…and my heart glows for you still have these glimpses of who you are when your mind is miles away from me.
“I don’t know a thing about colors, Love. My knowledge is limited to primary colors, but I know a thing or two about smoke and mist, and if you were to ask me, to genuinely ask this of me…I would say that your soul is a galaxy. Miles away, a thing of beauty, unattainable.”
“Where do you get these words from?”
“I don’t know Love. When I am around you, sometimes, the hardest thing is to accept who I am…for I never know why I am calm when I bleed my heart out or even why I do it, see, if you ask my friends, like take Martin for example, he’d tell you I am a jerk, the most clueless person on earth…but Martin’s lucky, he’s got his forever-and now he just has to work towards making it last, and look at me…look at us…”
“And?”
“You’re my Kilimanjaro…I love you but I do not know how to leave who I may be when you are away from me, so no matter how hard I try, I never get to your peak…”
My love is like a faucet, the show of affection depends on how much you turn it.
You said this amidst puffs, and I never took my nose out of the book I was reading.
We have these easy evenings where your mind is numbed by your heart and my heart is frozen by your actions.
“Let’s go get supper, I’ll make you something delicious,” you say.
I lift my head from the page, shake my head ‘no’ and continue reading.
It’s easy to say no to you because when you truly want something you never stay still.
You are still standing by the window, your left hand outstretched, a finger tapping off the ashes off your cigarette butt.
“Can I make you a cup of coffee? It’s instant though,” you ask.
“Yes, thank you,” I reply and for a moment you hold my gaze. It’s what you desired, this moment, my attention so you can appeal to my soul again.
It’s all you ever do, Love.
You appeal and appeal and your requests are mundane…your requests desire normalcy, yet my soul yearns for the unexpected…and I sit and hold your gaze until you take one more puff, throw that cigarette butt away and take two strides towards me.
Your hands reach out to me and in an instant, your forehead is against mine…I wait.
You inhale…slow and steady and I know what’s coming, I have been here…
However, much I say I’ve healed…however much you say that you belong to me, I know that at some point, at three in the morning, another will answer your call. At dusk another will be in your arms, in the club, at a party, on vacation…you inhale and exhale these feminine creatures and I for one, cannot bear to be a statistic.
You chuckle, low…but it warms my heart and you say “sometimes I wish you only had one doubt, because then I could easily dispel it, however when you reign in showers of doubt my Love, I am at a loss and I am with you but you are not and you know what, it kills me that I seek you out to push you away, how messed up is that? Do you know what I wish for you?”
“No, what is it?”
“I wish that none of your doubts were true. I wish your heart blossomed like mine, and that every second you spent with me filled you with joy, as much as any away from me. I wish you loved me…I wish I kept you, like you did me…I wish…”
“Hey…”
“Let me get you that coffee…”
You are in one of your moods this evening. So, I steer away from them by filling my cup with coffee and taking in gulps of it, while staring at my phone.
“Have you read this book?” you ask.
I turn and in your hand lies a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey, and on your face…a smile…an easy smile.
“Yes, I have.”
“What did you make of it?”
“Does it matter?” I ask.
“If it didn’t, I would not have asked…so what did you think?”
“About what?”
“The book! Where’s your mind today? You’ve been stuffing your stomach with coffee ever since you got here, and you haven’t said a word to me- so now I ask you about a simple book and you are still going round in circles, what’s up with you?”
“Well…good evening to you too. Something’s bothering you and until you tell me, I think you’ll stay angry at me for nothing.”
“I am not angry.”
“Frustrated…”
“No, I am not frustrated.”
“Restless…”
“I am not restless!”
“Worried, anxious, perturbed, scared, weary, afraid…I could go on.”
“Look, I am sorry, it’s just been a long day. Mark, you know him…my friend, the one we met last week, at that party…well, he’s getting married. He asked me to be one of his groomsmen.”
“Oh, I see…and you’re anxious because you now remain the unmarried guy in your close circle of friends, right?”
“Love is cruel, sometimes…you know, I wonder, what would we be if we never had to feel this much for other people. How is it that someone can so easily break what you entrust with them and go on eating, drinking ten cups of coffee and still manage to make you bleed your heart out..? What manner of sorcery is this?”
“Easy.”
“Uh?”
“The book. I found it easy.”
“What does that mean?” you ask.
“I guess I learned that reading something is not an endorsement of it…just like you reading that book does not mean you endorse everything about it.”
Here we are, in this moment, this time…
Ours is a love unlike no other…for I have no idea of any other kind of love,
So, I hold onto my heart, pull up my sleeves,
Look around this small room…smile when all I want to do is cry.
Cry for, I wish my Dad was here…walking me down that aisle,
Looking at you with the kind of eyes that command “don’t you dare break her heart!”
Cry for, everything I thought I’d never feel, I do…it overwhelms me.
I am not this kind of woman, I do not tear up at the thought of walking down that aisle to you…it’s a day like any other day, the sun has risen and it will set.
I do not shiver at the thought of what we’d create,
I do not cower at the thought of disappointing you…at some point, I will and I am sorry.
So, before the organ plays “Guide me, Oh Thou Great Jehovah,” and I take my first step on that carpet leading to you,
Before I go anywhere but here, I want you to know that I am as whole as I am broken.
I do not expect you to fix what’s broken in me, I do not expect you to chip away at my wholeness.
I do not wish any sorrow upon you by choosing to walk this path with me,
I’ll get angry at you, I’ll keep what scares me to myself at times, not because I do not trust you, but because I am not strong enough to face it then…patience, is all I ask for…and Heaven knows we’ll need it.
You’ve waited for twelve years, you’ve bled more than you let on…and I’ve watched you but never helped…
Oh, that your love may see you through…it’s all I pray for, before I go.
A friend asked me this question today. We were by the road waiting to hail a probox (a public means of transport here-meant to ferry four passengers, but usually ferries eight or nine depending on size) and she’d been thinking about the turn her life’s taken.
See, I learned that some ‘aha’ moments asail you smack in the middle of your daily hustle and bustle. So, when she asked “what happens when you set out alone?” Off the tip of my tongue came the response “you grow, and you’re never the same after that.” She shook her head and said “you’re always so deep, like who cares about that? What about never meeting the one you love? What about you know, never seeing all the countries or making money to live off in retirement?”
I smiled, my readily available reflex action, and answered “you asked me a question and I gave you an answer that speaks to me, if it does not do the same to you, then you are on course, find your answer.” We hailed a probox and got in the front seat- two young women, one’s hippy (she’s the one) and the other thinking of what’s happened in her life in the past one month!
So, here goes my update on this life!
I seem to have grown taller, chubbier on my cheeks and I am still learning that life is more about the small wins you cherish because waiting for big wins is wasting away and missing out on what could lead you there.
Have a lovely week and I do hope that wherever your journey leads you, you’d blossom, like Grumpy always tells me!
I had coffee with my emotions today.
This happened some time between 5AM and 6AM…of all the days,
I had to summon my feelings on a Wednesday.
Oh, and how they came…some in caravans, others like thunder, but one…was ever so present, but just unmoved, until I thought of you.
I had coffee with my emotions today,
I have held onto hurt for eighteen years, not days, years,
And today I let her go,
Watched her slip right through my fingers into the daylight.
You asked me once “why do you smile when you’re hurting?”
I couldn’t speak up, and like you always do, you hugged me and held onto me…you acknowledged the weight of my pain but never tried to take it from me.
I had coffee with my emotions today and when it was time,
I picked up the phone, dialed your number…
And after 3 rings…she picked up…”hello…”
I had coffee with my emotions,
Now…Love, I think I ought to pick up a racket or a baseball bat and tell those emotions what’s up!
“Have you ever had your heart broken in a cafe?” I ask this and you turn to me and ask “where did that come from? Is that why you want us to go to Java this Friday?”
I throw the pillow at you and in sleek mode, you duck and stick your tongue out at me. You laugh and for a second turn and I see it coming, “seriously though…are you thinking of ending us? Look, I know, wait…I know we have something, a kind of connection and you love me but are too scared to admit it, so…whatever we are, we are not leaving it at a cafe of all the places! Not a place that reeks of coffee and house music, that’s blasphemy!”
There are two things I know to be true; I love coffee and I love the uncertainty that’s me. So, when you look at me, waiting for a response, I can only speak of what I know to be true. “Relax, would you…but what would you do if someone broke up with you at a cafe?”
“I would pour the coffee on them.”
“No, you wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me. Look, why are we talking about cafes and breaking up?”
“I just had an idea and you know me and these little gems of life that dwell in my mind. Now, can I get a refill!”
You take my cup and for a second stare at me, as though your mind wants to take note of every crease, bump, rash, curve, line on my face…and slowly you raise your right hand, and as it happens with every touch, I close my eyes and lean into your open palm.
“You need cafe therapy love…for one of us will go up in flames while the other stares at the embers left of that fire…”
Would you believe me if I told you, I beheld Grace?
Would you believe me if I told you, I ran a race?
For in her eyes, the sun rose and went to sleep,
The stars sparkled and the moon glowed, I went to sleep.
I beheld Grace,
Oh, daughter of the earth…stay true to your grace,
For the thing about essence is that once it’s drained,
nothing, not even grace, is sustained.
It’s four o’clock and the evening’s splendor is at the mercy of the showers of rain. I’m on my fourth cup of coffee. You sit beside me on the couch, rub your hands together and ask “should I bring the whole kettle right here?”
“No, why?”
“You have drank half of it already and I know you’ll ask for a refill when you’re done with this.”
“Yes, so?”
“I am not your waiter.”
“I’ll get it myself, do not worry about it.” You let out a laugh. How easy it is for you to unleash these easy laughs you store within you. I shrug my shoulders but wink at you. You look away, and lean back into the couch…and I know it’s coming, because when you open up, it’s preceded by a void of silence.
“You love me like a memory.”
I put the cup of coffee back on the table and stretch out to lay my head on your lap. It is still raining outside and when your fingers brush my cheek, I inhale the residue of cigarette smoke. I take to coffee and you take to cigarettes…sometimes, whisky.
“Have you tried Chivas?”
“The Scotch-Whisky? Yes, why?”
“I saw it on a billboard today while making my way to town. I love the shape of the bottle, it is rather feminine, a bit curvy and stocky at some point, but definitely curvy.”
“You saw a bottle of whisky on a billboard and you loved the shape of it because it’s curvy?”
I look at you and smile and you laugh…this time, it’s a blissful laugh, the kind that says “What am I going to do with this girl?” So, we sit and you take in short breaths, as though inhaling and exhaling would stop your heart from asking me questions that you know I will never answer.
I know not if this is love, if the image of your smile in my head makes me smile, if the sound of your voice at any time of the day makes me anxious. I know one thing though, that I live for these moments of silence between us, where you create a void to express your feelings and how I glide over those voids by changing the subject and you let me.
“You love this, don’t try to deny it. You should move in with me.” I shake my head and sit up to drink my coffee. You get off the couch and walk to the kitchen leaving me to the sound of the rain…once peaceful, now…
And when you come back, you lean on the kitchen door, run your fingers through your hair and ask “why are you afraid of me?”
This time…I recline.
nilichoandika 