The Joy Scribbles

They're a number of love stories I've told but never ours. It's my favorite one.  Its the only one that ends without a sour taste in my mouth. The only one I still pray for. I pray for you. Did you know? Do you ever hear my prayers? I pray the way mother's pray for their children and women pray for their husbands. Prayer is a woman's best firearm is something my mother says. I don't think she meant for me to use all my Ammo protecting you. I don't think she meant for me to pray for you so hard. But, I find sanity in knowing that even in the moments when  I choose myself over loving you God will love you for me. In the moments when you would look to me look to him. I'm not nearly responsible to hold your heart in my hands without dropping it. I fear I already have, but I want you to know. All these years later, All these boys later, ' All these scars later, there's not a smile in the world that warms my heart more than yours....

My best friend says I have no idea how to fall.  He walks a bit too close when I've had at least 4 shots of tequila.  " you don't know how to save yourself. You're going to break."  he says.  And I don't know he is right until a boy says  " I don't love you as much as I used too"  And God I love him.  God I'm reckless.  I fall head first in love.  And I fall all the way apart.  And I break myself on people. 

Dear Darling, You have convinced yourself that there is nothing more to you than him. But I am here to remind you that he is the stale taste of overnight cigarettes and the heavy presence of vodka on a sunday morning. And you? You are the sun and stars. A whole Galaxy. A swirl of places I could hide myself in. He tried to set you on fire didn't he? He tried to burn down your barricades and when you didn't break he fed you love in the form of roses, wine, Brazilian weaves and luxuries you never needed. He tried to coax you out of your safe room, Didn't he? He tried to fatten you up with insecurities so there would be no space for self love in there. Why did no one tell him you were a volcanoe? And that no one had survived your erruptions? Why did no one tell him that broken boys can't love strong women? Didn't he know? Didn't he see you would break him? Didn't he see you were not the kind of horse that could be tamed? Cause I did. I saw it the moment yo...

The first time he says he loves you,  you ask if he remembers when you were ten and your dog died.  If he remembers the hug he gave you.  He says yes.  You tell him that was the last time a hug put you together,  and you wish you guys were ten again because 17 is a terrible age to fall in love. 

I've been trying to scrub out the love letter you wrote in my heart.  New wounds open above the old, scratches and scabs turn into scars that never heel.  So I tried to bath them in liquor and hide them in sin, but I still remember that some time, 'long ago a boy told me he likes the way I sometimes cry at silly things like not being able to find my favorite ice cream.  I've tried planting things you do to annoy me over it.  like chewing your nails, snoring when you're drunk; smelling like red wine and Marlboro cigarettes and a hint of weed; like telling me you can't remember why you ever fell in love with me; like "come on baby you're not shining, shine for me". But nothing grew, Nothing but an annoyance that I sent you a text last night to which you replied "K". despite the fact that I said I love you.

The first time you realize you love someone you will be staring at them across a table. They will not notice you. They will be laughing or smiling. Or they will be reading a book with a crease in their forehead and you will ask yourself “How did I live my life without you?”. You will answer with “I never really lived.” You will breath in sharp and strong. The air will reach the bottom of your lungs and you will sigh heavily thinking “I love you”. And at that moment they will notice you. They will smile.  You will not say it then. You will say it a month from now. Maybe you’ll be laying in bed and they’ll be playing with your hair. You’ll maybe whisper it “I love you.” If you’re lucky they’ll catch it and whisper it in your ear. If you’re unlucky you’ll scream it in the middle of an argument and they’ll stand there like a deer in the middle of a road. You will be the truck at High speed, Bright lights, Honking so they move. But they will stand there and you will slam the brakes...

I am trying to teach you not to hold on to boys that bury their troubles between your thighs. I am trying to teach you fierce. I don't know, maybe even strong. I am trying to teach you that if no one will warm your feet you have to wear socks. I am trying to teach you that you're worth more than 30 minutes of sweat and not even a five minute nap. I am trying to teach you that you don't have to love anyone back. That "it's complicated" is not "I like you" and everything before "but"is a lie. I am trying darling... But you're stuck in your ways you cry on shoulders that forget to text you back. and pay for drinks you never drink. I am trying to teach you that box never saved a man or fixed him. That your cooking never loved him. that your texts are an annoyance I am trying to teach you' that you are worthy of yourself darling. when will you learn? when will you know? Not to find comfort in mediocr...

Dear Grandma I can't forget the day you said you'd see me in my dreams. Or the day my cousin screamed "Mampho o sule". And I'm trying not to cry but I cry so much man. I cry about everything. Did I cry this much before? Did you know I cry so much? I cry almost as much as I breath. Sometimes I have to hide behind my shades and hat. I just started drinking tea again. I'm not hurling it but I haven't tried the one you liked. It scares me. I have a baby sister. So I'm not a baby anymore. And sometimes I wish you'd gotten to see it. I miss you terribly. I wish you'd visit my dreams tonight. Love, Tshepo.

Again I am super late due to power cuts. But here goes Dear Sir, I don't feel like writing down your name today. I no longer refer to it. Or hold it with the reverence of a little girl learning her first teacher's name. I no longer repeat it to people as if to remind them you once belonged to me. I no longer repeat it to myself in an attempt not to forget you. I try to remember not to say it. I try to remember that they're sick and tired of hearing it. I try to remember not to tell stories that make me laugh if you're in them. Or stories about the first time I did this or that because goddamn it you're in so many fucken memories. So sometimes I whisper it before bed and other days when I'm too busy to remember it crawls into my dreams and holds me. I keep trying to remember that you are no longer comfort. You are no longer home. Your bed is not a place I can bare myself anymore. I can no longer cry in your arms. You can no longer see me as the definition o...

I thought someone was moving in there. I thought I felt your little feet. But I woke up to the trickle of blood between my thighs. What kind of mother never hears her son leave? Never really knows if she dreamt him up? God I wish you'd stayed. Note From author Some women really wish their periods would arrive. They're others who wish they wouldn't arrive out of pain. But Imagine the women who are waiting on a little gift.

We're like withering roses me and you. This relationship isn't big enough for the both of us. It’s sad that some people suffocate in love or somewhere between it. Someone asked me what being in love feels like. I can't remember. All I remember is the consuming fear of losing you. Remind me darling.   I hate it when scars fade. That's when I forget all the burns, cuts and bruises. That's when I fall into your arms, forgetting that their safety once suffocated me.   That you once wept as you watched your too tight grasp leave me gasping and clawing at you.   Too selfish and scared to let go just a little. They won't stop asking why I won't leave you.   I've resolved to answering, "I'm a poet. What would I write about if not being in love with a man that thinks I'm pathetic" But we both know it’s nice to come back and be a mess again. I told you you're a lucky man. I didn't tell you I'm a lucky woman too. Ma...

Don’t fall in love with me  I’m not quite sure I can resist the urge to break you. I’m not quite sure I can keep from hurting you. I’m not quite sure I can fit the mould. The barriers. The labels. The dreams they sold you about love. The healthy can’t understand the emptied and broken. You can’t understand. You won’t understand that sometimes I’m sad and it’s not because anything is the matter. But I like that you leave me alone when I am. Please Don’t fall in love with me. No matter how much I ask. No matter how much I beckon you with the warmth in my arms. Or the tightness between my legs. No matter how often I let you hold me afterwards. No matter how often I smile. Or stare at you when you don’t notice. Please don’t fall in Love with me. Even though its too late for me, its not for you. I love you too much to watch you fall in love with a woman that doesn’t know how to stay. Too much to watch the spaces between us fill with hate. I love ...

She’ll do anything not to remember when they were together because it hurts too much to remember. So she sat down and wrote two letters. First she wrote about the love they shared. She wrote it all, from the first time she saw him to the moment he left to the weeks after. How he is everywhere, because they were everywhere. Even in her favourite restaurant and tub of bar one ice cream. It ends with “how do I live without him?” She burnt it. The second letter is Simple. “I don’t know happiness. I knew you. I’m sorry” They found it rumpled in her back pocket when they cut her body loose.