Band Aid

"The convenience of having a friend in a lover is unmatched."

I wanted to be your friend.
The place of solace you run to when the world wasn't as it seemed
When hours tumbled into days of working yourself to exhaustion
When all you wanted was a time out, a place to call comfort
I wanted to be so many things matched into one,
like the fire that lights up a blaze
Sets it on fire
I wanted to be the oxygen that kept your flame alive
the air that surrounded your light
I wanted to be so many things
A lover, a friends, a partner

Only, we didn't even get to the starting line
We didn't get to taste each others flavor
Never got a chance to even whisper "I love you"
On a cold night as we gazed at the stars

I wanted to be your band aid
I wanted to soothe out the hurt
The things that went wrong
I wanted to be the one to stitch you together
To be able to admire the handcraft
The hand work
Because it meant I could love you broken

Truth is, in mending you I was mending myself
I spoke of  how - hurt people hurt people
But what I really meant to say is that hurt people heal people
Because in your brokenness you'd recognize all the ways in which you can mend me
You find ways to soothe out the cracks, because you would apply the very things you wish someone would recognize in you
You would be able to do the things you wish someone would do for you
Because there's a part of our brains that believes,giving the treatment you wish to receive may actually bridge the gap you may feel

So in the end,
I ended up with more broken pieces.

I now spend nights reading through the conversations we used to have
The time when we shared dreams
The time were laughter was plenty

I now spend my days wishing I could get back the days when things were simple
Days were spent texting away
Nights were spent in cinemas

I now spend evening wishing that you didn't feel so far away
I don't know when I decided I was okay with you becoming a memory
But when that decision was made, I obviously wasn't in my right state of mind.

Pride, is poison.
It kills the very things you are trying to nurture,
and by the time you open your eyes to your imperfection
It's too late.

Now, I spend my nights wishing
For a friend in a lover unmatched.

Palms

What if I told you we didn't have to be over?
That our pride didn't have to drive us apart,
That the disagreements can be smoothed over
That all it took was a simple,
"I was wrong."

That you wouldn't loose self in an apology
That pride took more, then it did give
That everything could be as it always was.

The late night calls,
Mixed with the late night chats.

That indeed it was beautiful,
but did it have to be over?

I remember when it all started.
How time seemed to evade us
There never seemed to be enough hours to take each other in
Never seemed to be enough minutes to have a phone call last
I wanted to know everything there was to know about you,
I wanted to know what made you happy
As much as I wanted to know what to know what makes you cry,
and not because I wanted to be a punchline to a Joe Thomas song,
but because I genuinely was intrigued.

By this mass of a human being,
Strong yet gentle,
Guarded yet free,
Independent yet could learn to depend.

You were a mixture of paradoxes,
A paradox that I wanted to decipher and come to understand.
You made hieroglyphs look simple,
So complex were you that I couldn't wait to take you apart
Learn you, layer to layer,
Unlearn the restraints I had.

I wanted you to show me, what it is to love
To love everything about you
To teach me the creases of your soul
To show me the cracks of your heart,
Trusting me enough to smooth them over.

I couldn't wait for the days to look like months and unfold into years,
I couldn't wait to be the place you come to for warmth,
reassurance,
I couldn't wait to be the place you went to for a great laugh,
for our souls to resonate with each other
For the beat in my heart to match yours.

I wanted to be able to lie on your chest and tell you everything about me
The beautiful, the ugly
For you to be able to paint portraits of my life
Making everything look like one beautiful master piece

I believed,
That you would last.
That you'd be my forever to claim.
I was wrong.
AGAIN.

Red Rose

The fine velvet texture of a rose,
lifted out of a bucket of water
A little cold, yet beautiful

You smell the aroma that promises romance,
Reminding you of the boy who bought you dozens of roses
Not because there was an occasion,
but simply because he wanted to see you smile
He knew that roses brought warmth to your heart
Made you look at the beauty of life
The wonders of creation.

Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I want to make you happy,
Will a rose do too?

Whether blue, red or white
They still paint pictures of possibilities
of romances laid out on a sheet
Staining it with passion
Our passion
That, that echoes between us
Audible enough to decipher
Yet, a low murmur of moans

Ever wondered why moans of pleasure escape your throat?
Involuntarily,
Before you can formulate the thought of pleasure
It escapes you. And the here, the now,
Is all that matters.

Such is the effect of a rose
A rose, lifted out water
Because their petals no longer become -
He loves me, He loves me not.

They simply are,
a moments pleasure.
a moments moan.

Pastel

I will recreate till everything is beautiful,
till I can no longer tell where the pink meets the blue.

My life shall be beautiful again.

I will be able to greet you with  a smile,
warm enough to touch,
yet distant enough to not intrude.

I will be the good in your bye,
'cause with every goodbye comes a memory
of the times we shared
the memories we made.

One day, I will be able to look back
and be glad you walked into my life
and showed me that yellow
doesn't only need to be in sunflowers
it too can be in the sunlight

That you can look at someone
and it's okay that they are no longer around.
because goodbye doesn't always have to come with sorrow

It can come with the new opportunities
an opportunity to discover self
a time to fill your life with you

To teach yourself how to draw the traces of you face
without needing a warm hand next to you
To be able to discover your heart again
without trying to smooth over the cracks.

I used to think the cracks in my heart were ugly
but now I know that each crack tells a story
it may not always be pleasant,
but it is my story.

and so I will go about finding the pastel
colors in my life,
discovering the true beauty of self
because I will make everything beautiful.

I will make it pastel beautiful.

The Walking Contradiction

“Do not compare me to that girl Mavis,” are the words that inspired this piece. It’s not a matter of trying to plead my case, because at no point will there be reference to my life situation, but rather dissecting how one can utter those words and not know the person in question.

See, we live in a society filled with more gossip than we can take in. Such that to we can draft a full up biography, with references, of people we have never met, never mind laid eyes on. Social media was invented to have humans interact and connect from miles away, and although there are plenty of advantages, the disadvantages stare us dead in the eye. That one can be so informed about another’s life without so much as having uttered a sentence to those said people over months. The bother is not so much the information as it is the use of information. That we can sit around a table and have a full fledged conversation about people we genuinely do not know. That rumours can colour another’s reputation by a simple “Did you hear?” and after that source A will be sure to add spice and everything nice at the next opportune time to share.

It irks me that we are so easily persuaded about peoples character without so much as an actual analysis, that one can have such an engraved opinion on someone they know nothing of. Not taking into consideration the obvious factors that will come into play, such as people will be sure to paint anyone in a negative light if they have a score to settle, jealousy is the greatest booster to telling loathsome things about another and the actual favourite, wanting to seem as though you know the said person when in actual fact, this person is not even aware you breathe oxygen never mind exhale carbon dioxide. However, trust and believe that your life will be discussed and painted an ugly smear of red to show just how worthless and shallow you are to the masses. What’s genuinely flabbergasting is how the rumour mill is sure to tell every nasty thing, but will evade all that paints the genuine you. Such that you will get the words, “You are nothing like what it is I expected.” Translated – I have heard so many things about you that no longer add up.

The reality of things is that people will always talk, the core of the matter is that it will not be by your probing or doing, but simply being. You do not have to be a gold digger to be labelled one, you do not have to be broke to be labelled poor, you do not have to be a female dog to be labelled loose, you do not have to do a damn thing but simply coexist on earth.

My biggest bother in life is how we expect treatment we will not readily reciprocate. The mass of water always looks far deeper then it is, is the very way people will portray depth, not knowing that at the reaching of you, you are as shallow as your judgement. We expect that rumours be said about us and people know better by observation and not believe everything they are told, because fact remains, people lie. Such that the rumour mill is filled to the brink with a cascade of lies that filtering for truth is like trying to find a needle in a hay stack. Yet, the rumour mill does not run itself, humans do. What is the biggest contradiction is the speed at which we believe these said rumours about another, as its always funny when you are not on the receiving end, but the minute the tables turned, our default setting of believing the rumour mill should seize and we try analyse that this is nothing but mere lies.

Why should I believe you are better?

Why should you believe otherwise is the more appropriate question. As hearing about someone cannot be classed the same as knowing them. The very same way you expect that people get to know you through you, as opposed to what they have heard about you, you owe the same courtesy to another. Relating the very things you have heard about yourself that do not hold water, is the same way you should understand that it too can be done to another.  In the event that what you have heard is your reason for not wanting to avail the said person a chance to show you who they really are, can be respected. However, do not be the person that continues the rumour mill about another.

Don’t tell me what they said, tell me what made them comfortable to tell you.

See, this statement is so real. It should be the foundation of any friendship, as it is said show me your friends and I will show you who you are. What we fail to understand is that, some people are not your friends. The very people that can be clothed as your friends, are the ones rooting for your failure. By understanding that, you will then be able to decipher who genuinely is a friend. There is a significant difference between an acquaintance and a friend. The ability to be able to differentiate and critically analyse who brings rumours to you is essential. How they heard about you, is where the key lies.

Double Standards

We expect that people know better and not believe the lies told about us yet believe the lies old about others. It genuinely does not come together, its contradicting and shows a wavering in character stability. Knowing your stance on a matter and being able to stand firm in your belief system will ensure that you know very well how to react to situations such as that, the rumour said about another. I, particularly have no time for that, “He said, she said” bollocks, it is an utter waste of time and is just plain not needed.

So, here is a conversation I had with a guy who genuinely took the scales off my eyes.

Him: I am the most judgmental person I know, and I do not try down-play it, I am genuinely honest about it.

Me: Being judgmental says a lot more about you than it does about the other person, as humans have a tendency to portray our insecurities onto others. As a reflection of internal insecurities, they derive satisfaction in looking down upon another’s.

Him: I am only as judgmental as I am because I expect the utmost from myself, so in turn I set they very same standards for other people. Those insecurities you speak of are not internal, but rather external as I am not blind to them and I too do not try cover them up with lies of solitude.

Me: That further cements my analysis on your insecurities, only difference is they are not deep rooted and internal, but rather external and your awareness may be stronger than that of the average human.

We all embody insecurities we low-key try reflect on other people. The fact that as humans we tend to derive flaws from other people, says a lot more about oneself than it does about the other person. Rarely do we have people actually acknowledge their reflection of themselves onto others, such that when judgement is cast it really is a reflection of oneself as opposed to the lacking of another. In truth, we sneer at things we cannot fully comprehend, judge the things we do not understand and want after the things we spend our time talking about.

Inadequacy

Imperfection is through what I would have to teach myself that indeed I am perfect.
I have been carved out to be exactly who I am,
Learn the lessons I am learning,
and live the experiences I am living.

For every time they will come with a bed of sunflower roses
ready to tell me that the sun sets in my eyes
ready to tell me about how I am all that it is he wants
in the times when he will look near some perfect.
I was his muse, his light and his night.
The beginning and the end of his world.
Yet he was never enough, I never felt he was adequate for me.

Later, my heart will be written twice over,
painted with a love that will never quiet leave,
but can be buried by new found moments.
They were filled with laughter and I felt appreciated
Only, adequacy is the one thing he never possessed
Although he looked like he was cut straight out a catalog
The kind of man you paste one your bedroom walls
simply because he was beautiful to look at,
he ended up being a vague memory that I am to remember
when nights are cold, but not cold enough to reach out to

Later, I found that when you don't go searching,
You'll find them in the friend zone
He was probably looking at me as a rose,
that needed to be cared for and watered
Year after year, till eventually it was beautiful enough to cut
Only, the thorns that grew from my branches
were deep enough to sting,
yet shallow enough not to leave a scar
just a distant memory of aroma's
You wished to encounter again
His breath was intertwined with mine,
his promises were genuine
but his body never did fit mine well.
Nor did my soul yearn for him
So I walked, as I always did
When inadequacy found me

Later, it seemed that him who followed could very well be the one
oh what a joke, the one who would hurt
the one who would lie
the one who would deceive,
Yes. he was the one alright
but not in the conventional "starry eyed one" form
He came to kill every ounce of me with his betrayal
He would later make the betrayal seem like a mistake,
only I dodged a bullet.
TWICE!

Later, I found that hurt could be erased by a tissue,
he was warm, kind and soft enough to caress the pain away,
he was always gentle at my brutality
he was kind at my snarling
he was patient at my indecision
he.. He could have been the one,
only I had learnt that the one would come dressed as the devil
so I fled. and he chased, and today.
Still he chases.

Later, I found a wolf in sheep clothing.
He did not last long enough to leave an impression worth mentioning,
yet he taught me that you can speak Bible verses and still be savage
that it was an actual thing to use the Lords name in vain
Whilst trying to smooth over all the ways in which you
You simply couldn't give a damn who you destroy
On your path to seeking love.
Unimportant.

Later, it would seem I found my imperfect match,
matched in all the ways that would matter
unmatched in all the ways that would take from you
A piece to your soul,
He was a vendor really.
A sales man who was good at his art
The art of selling dreams
He sold them in all ways to which you knew
Knew that they were all lies but you believed better
oh well, damn me.
I'll marry you he said
I'll stand by you he said
I'll walk with you, Lord as foundation
He didn't lie.
Only, he married the idea of me - not me
He stood by the version of me he liked - not me
He walked with me - walked me away from the Lord
Lest he try,

I thought there would be no later.
I didn't want there to be a later.
Later always proved too good to be true
Later always looked like, it would be different this time.
I believed that this time, there would be no later.
I was wrong.

Later walked in with his lazy walk
A smile that played across his lips
Promising, daring, seeking.
He walked in with no intentions
He walked in like a calm storm
So really, I never noticed him creep under my skin,
Never saw him steal my time,
Take my heart,
nor did I see him become the later I knew I didn't need.
He made later look okay, look good.
Only, as the story usually goes.
Later became everything I knew I didn't need

I later learnt that I needed time to heal. That love would come later.
No matter how much time it took, there needed to be time to heal.