The Joy Scribbles

Did you tell God about the way your lungs caved in last night when you realized it was quarter to done and you were quarter to failure or pass and You're not sure if you should cry or smile because dammit you can't breath.  You don't like new beginnings do you?  You don't like fresh starts or new things or new people.  That whole process of getting to know,  building routines.  You don't like the idea that you could be good enough. or not good enough. or just below average. or that someone will hold you to their standard. And God you hate mornings. You hate the way the air is colder. You hate the kinda blue the sky is. But no one can hate sunrises so you'd wake up for those. But only if your boyfriend promised to kiss you better when it's done and let you sleep. But you can't help but love the smell of coffee. Black and strong but not so sweet because how else can you stay on team perfect teeth. Teeth whitening is not as big an iss...

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...

"Stop holding your breath and chanting prayers that I do not break myself. " "I can't help but worry. you're asking me to trust a stranger with your heart" "I'm asking you to trust me" "How did that work out the last time?" "I know. I know. I break myself on boys. but you're making me anxious. Just breathe" "I'm trying." You can't help but chant and hold your breath and I just wish you'd breath. Because it's a lot harder to be happy when you're worried your friend is dying from hoping you'll be fine. 

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.

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...

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.