Hope ain’t no feathered thing
The thing about love is — it ends.
(and sometimes, that’s the gift).
Don’t you just love the beginning of a love story?
When things are untainted yet by history
untouched yet by pain and regret.
A beautiful flower just beginning to open
not yet sored by too many half-truths and outright lies.
A new beginning
a love story untold
being folded and unfolded
one delicious page after another.
Long before I ever met you
your soul sang sweet lullabies to mine
Sweaty, entangled limbs and hours of conversation
your hands remember my body so well
where my flesh rises and falls
guided by the soft sweetness of desire
it is like no time has passed at all
until we can fall into one another again
like a dream
Where stories are told and worlds created — anything can happen.
And then, of course, the inevitable heartbreak.
Always followed by bone-shattering heartbreak.
Killed by hope
My girl Emily lied.
Hope ain’t no feathered thing.
The Marriage Story is probably the most realistic story about relationships that I’ve ever seen — in that it calls bullshit on happy endings.
Things fall apart.
It is the nature of life.
where there is birth there will be death
Where there is pleasure, Eskom will bring you pain (my fellow South Africans will get this).
As they say in one of my favorite romcoms of all time,
“Sometimes, love is simply lost.”
And so it was for us.
Though, as much as I tried,
He will forever be a part of me.
Aurora and Orion
you are beautiful memories of a tomorrow
that could never be
Before I knew we were lost
When hope still perched in my soul,
In those precious few moments, when I was unmasked,
unashamedly vulnerable,
I asked him — that just for a moment
to look past the darkness of his own mind
knowing what he could lose, and love me anyway
Love. me. anyway.
He didn’t.
Not in the way I deserved.
The price of admission, it turns out, would cut soul from bone.
“Whatever you can give,” he said and I gave it ALL.
“If I love you, you can have everything. You can have my time, my devotion, my ass, my money, my family, my dog, my dog’s money, my dog’s time — everything. If I love you, I will carry for you all your pain..”
Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love
Unrequited toxic love is nothing but a drug, an unholy one at that.
That can take you all the way 6 feet deep
“But sometimes, they can also take you oh so high”
There was a time before the smell of bleach was scary.
When I didn’t know that the exposed shins of nurses would be the unbecoming of us.
Something in us broke after that.
We tasted only of the bitterness of war.
And now, years since, there is still a part of me that holds onto something.
The ‘almostness’ of our future-selves.
The saddest word in the world is almost.
He was almost in love.
She was almost good for him.
He almost stopped her.
She almost waited.
He almost lived.
They almost made it.
Nikita Gill
All we are now are memories of a tomorrow that could never be.
And ‘endless questions without answers’.
The desperation of wanting him
Wanting to be needed by him
Clings to me still
Draped over my skin like a stepmother’s embrace.
Hold me a little longer so my heart can break a little more
So now, choosing peace over violence (thank you 5 years of therapy and my circle of sisterwives)
I find myself saying — closure isn’t a team sport — and even if it was, I’ve never been good at sports anyway.
“Love has no exit interviews….Closure is the poor man’s time travelling.
Remy Ngamije
So let me leave you with this -
“We need in love, to only practise this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it” Maria Rilke
