power, poetry & Passion

I never believed growing up, i would ever have to face the reality “Not everyone would like you” And for some, they may have had the unfortune moment to experience the times you were unkind…hurting….confused….aching and these moments would give them all the colors they need to paint a picture of you on a canvas of their own reality.

Mogano…

After Jon, one can say…. i got lost in smoke. Most people get heart-broken and cry, vent to friends and call it a day… not me, not i. You see i did all those things but yet I ached. An itch needed scratching. My mother wound. You see i am not a stranger to the term “Licking love off knives” My parents were not the most affectionate pair. My father an angry man and my mother a torrent business woman who had kids to heal her own wounds. I was born… my mothers face dressed in my fathers temper. He hated me because with me, all he could see was her… talking back… fighting back, she never talked back, she never fought back. And to her, all she could see was him..

But what i always found amusing is how… as a couple they worked well together… I can firmly say under their roof… i did not even know unfaithfulness was a thing, people believe i grew up sheltered & spoiled. I can say some of that privilege, yes did exist. but it is hard paying attention to the outside world when you are fighting a war in your own backyard.

I ate his punches, drank his blows, soon the slaps faded into applause. But her….. THE NEXT FEW LINES WOULD BE DIFFICULT FOR ME TO WRITE I HAVE NEVER BEEN HONEST ABOUT THIS BEFORE.

My Mother….

With my mother love was earned and revoked. In fact, after her father died and she was burdened with providing for the ungrateful ones. she became hard. I have never seen someone so kind yet so void. It was like she did not get close because she did not know how…My mother would rather pray about it than actually do any work to be close. Truth is, deep down, I always knew i disappointed her. Not in anything particular but only in the sheer melancholy i was not her. I chose not to suffer like she did, marry like she did, bear kids like she did. So she punished me for it.

I ached for any sign and show of love without volition, she knew i wanted it and she withheld it and knew exactly how and when to swing it above my head. I rather my fathers violence than the emptiness that was her love. She cared simply just out of duty. Nothing more, nothing less. I was a responsibility she let others and the elements raise. My luck is I was born intelligent, to make it in this world I had to be smart. It was a burden but a gift. I was autistic… A tabou, a crack in the perfect reputation. so i suffered. they made me suffer. And it made me violent. She refused to understand me, he would beat me till the fog settled in my eyes and she would turn the other way. I got shipped off to high-school from grade 4. Then when i was home, was locked away in my room. After high-school got shipped away to another city, in a different province, All the way in a country oceans away.

Till date of you reading this, my mother does not call unless i call, text unless i text. But yet i yearn badly. And the pattern continued in the men i dated. The quiet violence i was used too. Maybe if i show them, work hard… they would see i am deserving and worth the effort… she would see… I am more, just different.

Mogano was meant to be a brief pit-stop because i still lived in denial over Jon. A few empty swipes on tinder and there he was…. Dark skinned with a gap-toothed smile. I remember our first date.

He was so anxious i was flattered. Opening my doors, tall to hold. Made him try chia seed pudding for the first time and i enjoyed watching him struggle with the texture which i found rather cute. It does not take much to amuse me….

Mogano, was a weak man on the inside, his member stood as soft as his resolve. My grand-father was in the police force, my father a disciplined man. So, i could not understand Mogano, at best i expected maybe a solid love making session. But his failed standing member turned into him having crying sessions and God bestowed on me little patience for a man who could not fuck me. He was a bandage for a wound i refused to address. And for that I am sorry. I did have love for him…

That connection got severed when he was once again in a fit, he reminded me of tar… sticky to the touch, he had a brilliant way of not having a mind of his own. And that made me violently angry…. He brought out all the things i hated …. When he refused to acknowledge his wrongs i got angry, when he talked more problems than solutions… i got angry… He reminded me…. he just reminded me of a love i knew… and i hate him for it. I hated him because i loved him, he did all the things, withdrew and knew exactly how to torment my mind… all he did… was take because i loved to give, he took and took and took never giving back. The wrong man would literally drain you of your light and clear skin. without having the dick strong enough as well, As quickly as that flame started in the summer heat it quickly dwindled and died before the first autumn breeze. I remained single

So seeing him at that party in November, with a new girl he tried to flaunt… triggered the petty in me.

She was a pretty girl, i knew about her prior to that night at the cabin. She had cooked for Mogano and Sonma’s junior brother to which he had labeled “Our wife” – The poor girl, i scoffed when the post had appeared

I could see him stealing glances at me as i danced and talked to Ila. Sonma’s elder brother.

If you think Sonma was a cold drink of water in the desert, Ila was like petrichor. That cool first breeze letting you know it would rain.

I do not know what it is about men with an intense gaze, maybe its because i am a gazer myself. He was so so so tall and good looking, shy, quiet, reserved. If i was a bonfire, he was the quiet breeze that fueled me.

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I do not think i fit in anywhere. I am craving something i know for a long time sex can never fix. Funny enough, I actually just want to be held majority of the time. I just want someone to choose me, to put their hands on my shoulder and say —” Poppy, you have had a hard life, a life so complex filled with mini heart-breaks scattered across time and big heart-breaks that made your world turn black and white. But you do not need to have your shield so high and grip your sword so strong, you deserve a love that you don’t have to earn, friendship that remembers you. You have confused lust for love and interwoven yourself in a mess. You wanted so someone to know you and say Hey, i am happy to witness your existence. I want you to come to this thing with me, I enjoy your company, i thought of you when i made plans, I love you and only you, want you and only you. Desire you and only you. I cannot fix the cracks but we can do the rest of our lives together. Hey guys meet my friend Poppy’” and people are actually happy to have me.

I am scared i am going to die not knowing what love is, I did not know it from my parents, the fairytales lied to me and I have spent so much time confusing what was Lust for love. The loneliness was so deep… I had female friends but they had their own friends. I have a difficult time making friends, I have a difficult time wearing this elite social costume. I have a hard time with loud noises and bright lights. i can smell displeasure. I make new friends and get over-excited wanting a connection that takes years to develop, i would want it solidified in days.

I am so used to giving, pleasing, denying myself because i was scared i would not even be liked if i appeared as anything else. Truth is i hate chaos, even when the other person is dead wrong, I never understood how people kept malice, I always would want to talk it out. I am a floating mind with many words. When i sensed people had a false sense of who i was, i stretched to change it. Like i am trying to say “No look I am good. Please love me”. At some point i began asking myself am i even good, would that be why I am hard to love… it did not make sense… Because if i was truly bad why do they always come back… why do i always go back…. I think when you are used to feeling the fire on your skin, you begin to miss it. Miss how the burn kept you warm on cold nights.

In my head, half a loaf was better than none and some love was better than no love. Deluded myself because at the time i suffered both ways, They did not love me enough to try and i did not love myself enough to fully walk away… Till now still struggling.

I started this because right now I am struggling, its has been a year now since Mogano and i stopped talking, 7 months since the birthday party and i have broken no contact after he sent me a message and i started craving again.

Was it the throwback snap of him kissing me gently, softly all over my face. How he calls me “Mine” till date in the emails we send, is it the haunting snaps i still see of him….. Is it how he said every moment with me was worth dying for but still never acted like he was out of breath without me, Is it how now i have created peace.. my brain is craving an old baseline…. is it because i am afraid i would disappear into nothingness if i completely let go……

I have made so many mistakes in this game of Love and lust, learned from them yes, but right now. Am i nothing but the sum of all my worst moments…