You will hold your pretty face
in both your palms and ponder,
why one who gave you good feelings,
is the same delivering angsty feelings.
You will seat in your car,
and switch lanes as you wonder
why when you meant to take a break,
all he appreciated was a break up.
Your beautiful eyes
will search but not find
whatever (it is) you did, or didn’t,
and however you said what you said.
You will not understand.
Other than your most gracious self,
you will not find anyone to blame.
Then you will gather all the guts you possibly can
to retire to your now haunting abode.
It is from there
that you may shuffle,
and stumble onto a Jay Z song;
“life is all about guns and roses,
bitter sweet like friends and foes.
Some get happier, some get chosen,
just like life, guns, and roses.”
Unbeknownst to you,
a confusion will takeover.
Amongst several related happenings,
you will maintain a solemn look,
probably burn your food,
and keep indoors. Solitary.
You will lose yourself.
Your hurt(s) will be involuntarily expressed,
and escape from a residence
they should only show and affect;
Your will call up your now ex-lover
to plan for where you are headed.
He will not pick up the phone.
His log and conversations
you will erase,
and create a clean slate.
In the coziness of your bed,
a few tears you will shed.
He was nice,
and all you think he did of you,
Of course, he may be gone
but you will be alive,
and your beddings will still feel warm
because from the knots in your stomach,
a warmth will grow.
You will touch yourself
and not any for the more ask,
why he once called you a cunt.
It will simply be a part of your body,
and in effect, you.
A cunt he doesn’t want.
When the light of day arrives,
and a rainbow forms in the clouds,
you will sprout like a lilly in the rain,
freshen up, smell nice, and make up,
don clothes that will remind you
of your wonderful blessings,
and develop fervent hopes
that when you hit the streets,
and make them boys a mess,
at least one will blow you a kiss.
Ongata Rongai, Kajiado.
Sunday, March 23, 2014.