You once asked me, “where do you go to when you hurt?”
I smiled, a reflex, so in tune with my soul that you almost wept.
Stardust, in these echoes of silence, I travel worlds unknown to me.
You once introduced me to your friend as a ‘Vintage Soul.”
Did you mean it?
I truly wish you did for what do you say when you have no words left.
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What do you shed when you have no more tears…or do you will yourself to shed many more, until your ducts are dry and withered…Stardust,
I choose to bleed on paper.
I wrote you a letter, did I ever tell you? No.
I did, I truly did and now, I find myself taking a step back, and another, and another…finding my way to the one place where I was wounded, because until I face that pain, I’ll be residing in Castles with you, smiling while resenting every bit of you.
And you…Stardust a child of the earth, you deserve better, and so do I.
You are my puzzle. Sometimes, I orbit around you until I’ve had a view of you from every angle and then I leave.
You take these exits like you do your medicine, not so well.
“How come you’ve never asked me for anything?” you ask.
“What do you mean?”
“You know…like say ask me to buy you a book, treat you to dinner or buy you something like I don’t know…the things chicks ask for.”
“Are we in a relationship?” I ask. You shrug your shoulders, look outside…it’s drizzling now, my neighbor’s cat is busy calling out for her man…sometimes she makes me wake up in the night thinking someone dumped a baby right outside my window. You follow her movements with your eyes.
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Cats are your kryptonite.
Women are like newspaper leaves; each page a new story.
You smile and gently rub my feet. I know where you go to when I put you on the spot.
What astounds me is how easy it is for you to run to what wounds you, memories of a time when the one you looked up to, up and left. Remember the time I yelled at you, “I am not your Mother! I am here, I haven’t left and you are doing everything to make me leave!”
It was the only time you ever asked me “please leave…” and I was too stubborn to leave, so you left and never came back until the next morning.
You found a memory of her at the bottom of a bottle, in the warmth of another woman…and simply declared “you are too close, we’ll only be friends, I can’t let you any closer.”
Do you remember this day?
Do you remember those words?
I can taste them on my tongue. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I see your wounds and gently apply some salve to them…and you always lie there, serene, with a smile on your lips…your hand gently wrapped in mine, and in my dreams you are bliss. In my dreams we orbit each other, you are my sun, I am your sun.
In my dream every word is said through our eyes…every emotion felt through touch and when I dare to open my eyes, they are nothing but exits and orbits.
You look at me and smile, then let out another easy laugh, “I love how you go into your world when I am ready to answer your questions. Marry me, the next time you come to me, come not as a friend, or worse off a listening ear, but come as Mine.”
“Fourteen days, seven hours, three minutes and twenty one seconds…” you say when I answer your call.
“Hello,” is what I whisper, afraid that my words could reveal the scars in my heart, or worse off the agony of my soul.
“I miss you,” you say.
Have you ever wondered why the moon never plays the role of the sun? She stays hidden until it’s time for her to reign in the night. Like a side chick.
And like that, I come to mind when it needs me, a therapy session…checking in with your Counselor for nuggets of wisdom, emotional cleansing.
Oh, Stardust…what happened to the spaces within our silence where we used to dwell, two strangers, in-love falling in and out of love with every moment they spend together?
So, I take another deep breath and you laugh…an easy laugh, Love.
“I know you won’t admit it. For how long will we do this? Do you know what I wish? I wish that I could truly change and be the one you need, but these beautiful women won’t stop appealing to me, and it may sound off, but Heaven knows I’ve tried and the thought of seeing you look at me like I went and usurped the Devil is something I cannot bear…I’m a mess,Love. I miss you and it’s been too long since I saw you, I saw the cup you use to drink coffee whenever you visit me and…”
“And what?” I ask.
“Love, I don’t know anything anymore…did you see that Wamlambez meme I sent you on Whatsapp? It’s funny right, like the monkey is also on board…jamming to that tune…Kenyans are the best I tell you, this country has the craziest people on earth.”
“You are digressing.”
“Love…I miss you…and all it took today was just seeing a cup to acknowledge this, a cup! Can you imagine that? And it’s nothing like the fancy mugs you have but just seeing it gave me feelings…I hate this, and I don’t know…why is it that you never say a word while I say all these stupid things? I feel sometimes like you are dangling the carrot before me, watching me prod along…I’m in too deep, Love, in too deep.”
I feel too much. You say that one has to look at me to know what I feel, my emotions adorn my skin, my breath is a composition of emotions and my eyes…you fear that gaze, the one that you claim bores into your soul and draws it into the light.
How you come up with these words, I know not. Whereas I devour books, you would rather skin a feline creature than consume the words in one.
So, you stand back and watch me down my fourth cup of coffee and shake your head, “I swear you are an addict, coz who drinks that much coffee and falls asleep? Remember the time you had two shots of expresso and still had another house coffee? And chocolate cake all in one sitting?”
“I love coffee.”
“It’s bad for your teeth, skin and all that acidity…try some drinking chocolate, or soya.”
“No, thanks.”
You smile and continue chatting on your phone. I drown in my words, in my worlds thinking about you- for I have never met anyone who knows how to disentangle themselves from their current situation without a second thought. You come to me when you want to.
You flee from me like the rising and setting of the sun.
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Stardust, I wrote you a letter.
I couldn’t sleep after seeing you two nights ago, and there was this shiver that filled my soul when I thought about you, and so I put everything I felt at that moment in words. You are right, do you know that? I feel too much, and the thing about being in public or busy circles is that I pick up on how people feel and it’s too much for me, am I going crazy Stardust?
Like right now, I know you are almost giving in, suggesting that you hang out with them…and you will invite her or her group of friends. These beautiful creatures swirl about you. They are readily available and whenever I think of it, my head snaps…my heart wretches and my soul weeps. How happy and comfortable you are in who showers you with attention, if you can hit it and quit it, then the heavens are in your favor.
How did I get here Stardust?
You are like a cause that I volunteered for and now that I have been here, I do not know whether I believe anymore. Like religion, you shatter my beliefs when trauma strikes. Like life you unravel with each event.
How did I get here Stardust?
Why am I still here Stardust? So, I see you shake your head and you grin, and before you hit that reply button, I know that she’s convinced you. Or rather, you have made it easy for her to convince you, Stardust.
So, I guess I’ll keep that letter Stardust…one day, when my heart is completely broken, I’ll read it at dusk, light it up at dawn and walk into the day knowing that I truly loved and in so doing, love fueled my life.
“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…”
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?”
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“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.”
“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!”
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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…”
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.
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“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?”
nilichoandika 