telephonewires4

“How was your night?”

“Mm. It was alright. Better than staying home with nothing to do wondering what to do with my time.”

I forgot what he said here. Maybe he was alluding to something I had implied earlier.

I don’t remember exactly what my response was either, but it was a ramble and went something to the effect of

“I love you. I really do, I think I love you, but sometimes I’m just not in the mood. Like after this trip, I came back and I felt really positive about the relationship, but… Like the book I just finished reading is about ageing – the guy is telling the story over generations and you just see time going and you grow old and your body sags and I don’t even have the person I love with me so I can spend as much time with him as possible and cherish every moment I can. I just feel like in life there are always choices to make. There’s A and B and you have to choose one. Or maybe you say none of the above and you stay where you are, but either way time is going. It’s always going and you can’t get it back. So even if you choose A, you can’t come back and say let’s see how B is if A doesn’t work out. Or if you stay stuck where you are, time is still going no matter what you do. Like I’m 23 and other people my age are making steps. I don’t see what I’m doing with my life. I graduated with a degree, was happy when I graduated, but now what am I doing with it? I’m $40,000 in debt for a degree that I’m not using. Should I go to grad school? But I’m not sure I want to spend another $30,000+ or get that much in loans and then have it turn out to be something I don’t want. I just feel like my life is wasting and I don’t even have the person I love with me to hug and maybe just not think about it.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“I’m going to go to sleep cuz I have work in the morning.”

I wake up and see that the call has been disconnected. There is a message from him. I don’t read it. I had asked him if I was going to wake up to messages on my phone. I strongly dislike that; I don’t see the point when he could just speak to me. What is the point of being on the phone.

I get out of bed, strip and go to the bathroom. I brush my teeth in a rush while still trying to do a good job. After I shower and get back to my room, I try to remember what I had decided to wear. I change my mind, not wanting to wear heals two days in a row.

Maybe while eating my bowl of cereal, maybe afterwards, I read his message. I’m not in the mood, but I do it anyway.

It says something like if you wonder what I saw in you when we were friends and chose to be in a relationship with you even though you’re so far away, it’s “self-respect”. It caused me to trust you. …I know I have a woman of quality [three heart eyes and a heart kissing face].

My eyes run over the message quickly, trying to get the gist of it. I respond with “OK” and “gm” for good morning with a kissing face, but not the one with the heart and not the one with the blushing cheeks.

hear

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i suppose god heard my prayers.
i listened to the pastor and i prayed for my husband.
i was sixteen years old.

i suppose the one i prayed for heard in my voice how much i missed him,
despite me saying with firm conviction
that i didn’t want to do this anymore.

i suppose my cousin heard my sincerity.
i really didn’t visit only because i couldn’t afford it.
at the same time i didn’t want to ask for favours.
we are all struggling together.

but did my father hear me say i love him?
did i hear him when he showed it to me?

did the church hear the words of g-d?
or did they mask their confusion for fear of eternal death?

has god ever heard anyone pray?
does he hear anything at all?

do we hear bombs, gunshots and reports of storms
and cry to the sky to be saved?

i suppose that church brother i ran into this week
didn’t hear what i heard when i read the bible.
i suppose i didn’t care to listen to him tell me i should go back to church.
he never heard when i said there are things in the bible that don’t add up.
i never heard when he said that the bible cannot be wrong.
and when i got home, with his card still in my pocket,
i never heard that feeling as i tossed it in the trash.

via Daily Prompt: Heard

With Envy

Marquita Nicole

I’ve always wanted to be like her so much, I brushed off anything positive people said about me. I don’t know when it started or if this was caused by the environment consistently pitting women and girls against one another or if it’s 100% me and my delusions, but I used to always think that the grass was greener for the next chick.

There was a classmate of mine that I was so envious of that in the 4th grade, when I saw that she was upset about something, I railed on her: “how could you be upset about anything? Your life is perfect!” And to my nine-year old self, it was. She had a house complete with a play room, well-dressed parents and luxury cars. Moreover, she was pretty, popular and got to do both dance and gymnastics. When I compared that to my life: small apartment where I…

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womanwater

Waves rush
To lap at my shores.
I run, wanting
Not to be eroded –
My hard shell
So long in the making.

I am overtaken;
My airways suddenly
Blocked with grief
And regret.

I search myself
For answers,
A way out;
There is nothing
But paralysing fear.

My feet kick,
My arms flail,
I lash my head
From side to side.
My locks weave around my face.

This is it,
I tell myself.
This is the end
I always knew would come.

My limbs grow tired.
They stop their resistance.
I try again
For one last breath –
There is nothing.
I focus my eyes
On the sun
Far above the surface.
I look
Until I can no longer see.

old-forest

there is no fire.
the brutal winds of winter
have long massacred the flames
that once allowed their light
to dance against our bruised faces.

our central place,
always adept at holding us together,
restoring worn spirits and
reigniting passion within our bones,
returned to its place
in the earth
where it waits for us to follow.

we move slowly in the forest,
aided by the faint light of the moon
which knows no discretion,
revealing our figures to our prey.

we fight against them
and ourselves,
trying to become more skillful hunters,
more enlightened men.

we dance in the open patches
of our field
and moan in the private spaces
of our tents
longing for fulfillment
and an end.

we gather
with painted faces
and hidden scars,
loud voices
and barren wombs.
we stomp the soil
and beg for it to take us,
to remove us from our apathy.
we love ourselves
and each other
yet kill
when our purposes are no longer served.

it is the way of our kind,
as witnessed by the sun,
as seen in our destitute souls.

lovingly

i longingly pulled him closer to me –
my index finger in his pocket.
i hadn’t seen him in months;
i needed his touch.
he came towards me.
i embraced him.
it had been a very long time.
i submersed myself in his grasp.
i felt nothing and everything
at once.

he lovingly kissed my neck;
one, two, three times –
oh how i miss his large, dark lips
and all his loving gestures.

via Daily Prompt: Lovingly