I destroy every soul I am close enough to touch.
My heart has taken a lot of blows in one month alone
It’s too heavy to carry
I just pounce around like I’m unaffected
convincing myself nothing is wrong
I wake up and all I can think is
“I fasted- my faith should be stronger than ever…
Things of the flesh will not affect me.”
So I don’t bother unpacking my tears
And I don’t allow myself to feel the tides brush up on cheeks.
But there’s always that one moment where you choke, and oxygen becomes hard to swallow
That moment of release feels so so sweet
Where all facial fluids release,
where exhaling occurs after every short 5-8 inhales
And everything about crying feels so damn good…
You don’t want to stop –
Just like the bad things don’t.
I choke myself with words that belong to me.
…Words I gave birth to.
Photo Credit : Anish Kapoor- When I Am Pregnant (2013)
You poured your heart out to me on a pillow and then we started fucking,
I swiftly slid it under me,
Because I’d rather have it draped in bodily fluids than the smell of your broken heart.
It never crossed my mind that taking my clothes off for a couple of sweet words was beyond unethical.
You see, Prostitution is a trade-off between morals & money.
But what do you call it when you trade your morals for attention?
Society taught me, who I am, isn’t good enough,
Since then, I’ve been in search of validation,
& in return, I left my body in complete annihilation,
Because I’m too busy living to give a damn about my education.
I’m too busy putting on makeup because I don’t like the sight of my bare reflection.
My mind & body are in some sort of bittersweet altercation.
I seem to allure strangers that may never be properly introduced to my spirit but land up getting introduced to the demons in my head.
Their naked bodies creep into my bed smelling of another woman’s stench.
They, fondle my breasts,
And I effortlessly part my legs
Like the red sea spread for Moses
With each deep stroke leaving my sheets a bloody mess…
Their patience for me,
Proportionally inverse to their dick size.
After the hot sex,
Their emotions for me evaporate faster than the sweat in between our fully satisfied bodies.
Situation left sticky…
So heavily drenched in lonely that they don’t even bother to hold me…
Scared that my loneliness might linger on the follicles of their skin.
” Fuck bitch! i’ll call you back in 2 minutes”
wounded up being a few weeks,
Mind heavily impregnated,
Fueled with a million assumptions & insecurities …
Because they forever make my body a vessel that makes them come, & at times on my face,
But won’t be around when the bitter tears race, like my tears are some sort of kryptonite to their manhood…
They’ll never know the million scars that hide the very pain I scratch in their back.
When they come back,
They bite my lip so hard,
And suck out the bitter taste they left lingering on my lips from the last time.
So damaged, that I’ll probably only be able to recognize my own reflection with the broken piece of the mirror used to draw lines that satisfy my addiction.
The voices in me don’t sound like me anymore, they sound more like demons, demons that sound like them.
At this point,
My body is well acquainted with every position in the karma sutra,
We don’t even bother with foreplay, because I’m already wet,
Then I hear a careless whispers…
“baby girl, this doesn’t suit ya”
Thing is, I’m not doing this to look good, I do this to feel good…
All I ever wanted, was to be more than a wounded 2nd option
“time heals all”
But what do I do when every day it feels like the hands on my clock also suffer,
But with arthritis,
See, I’ve been looking for God EVERYWHERE,
everywhere but the bible,
Trying to figure out the notion about this thing called man…
Because Adam was easily manipulated by Eve,
But all my pussy power can do, is manipulate men to leave.
They pulled me from their chest, put an apple in my hand & blame me for their mess…
I lay in bed crying for invisibility because when I look up, the reflection I see of myself, is the god in him…
I know that the story ends in sin…
Many lifeless bodies who could have been lawyers, doctors, pro athletes lay breathless suffocated in latex on the pile of tissues left in my bin…
Soon as the liquor dissolves on my tongue,
I am unable to control myself.
I only want you.
Like you are the only thing buried at the bottom of a bottle.
I’m too far from sober to want you in any other way.
In the sea of alcohol,
It is only you that I remember clearly.
I can’t rinse the bitter taste of you on my tongue.
Your taste lingers long after I’ve stopped being consumed by you.
And I’m dying to feel the tenderness of being sober, again.
I wake, in a bed, that is remote to mine.
Laying beside you,
Fully aware that you’re not mine.
How is that you don’t stop me,
When you are the one with the sober mind.
In the temporary heat of passion,
You make bad decisions look good.
And in the aim of forgetting your name,
I only manage to forget my own.
Waiting until the night falls,
To crack a bottle of wine,
Is an easily attainable goal,
When I fool myself into believing that,
Tonight, I won’t think about you.
I will take all day to recover from the hell I put my body through the previous night.
And one day,
I’ll mean absolutely nothing to you,
And you will make me feel it in the midst of my unsoberness.
I will pour all the remaining pieces of my heart in a text, and you won’t even reply.