The Joy Scribbles

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. 

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...

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. 

“ his fingers are cold on the white ridges of my hipbones. scar territory, flinch territory, missed-the-sad but-found-the-blood territory. he says, “girls like you are so hot,” and his breath is the desert wind, is a sun i cannot run from, is a waterless river, “you messy ones are always the best ones in bed,” and i actually almost laugh at it last night while the rest of the world was asleep i was lying awake counting slowly back from one thousand hoping that this time i would find the strength to say no to the darkness i am pretty for an ugly girl. i am cute for someone so broken. i am almost worth the high-maintenance, the texts i send in desperation, the food i won’t touch that you spent hours making, the fact i push away literally all of my friends girls like me are so hot. we are red dwarf stars. we are burning up in the sky of your sheets. we will do anything just to stop thinking. we are open fires, we are the forest turning to ashes. we have destroyed everything close...

I wanted to say I was falling in love with you. But I wondered why love would be described as Falling. Would I be like a fallen city? Knocked down barricades, burned down houses, broken women and children, dead men? Conquered? Am I a thing to be conquered? A Fallen empire? something long forgotten? Just a leftover version of myths someone proved correct? Hidden away in rubbles of old alters were he worships me or dusty history books. No one even reads history books any more. Or am I more like a tea cup? Fallen off a shelf while I dusted my mother's cupboards, shattered into so many pieces I swept up and hid in the Pit Latrine. I wonder if she will ever figure I broke it. Is that what will happen? Will I break if I fall in Love? Will someone sweep me up and hide me? Because I am falling for a boy and it feels a lot less like falling. A lot more like flying. Or floating.

On some days I craddle nothing more than smiles and laughter. Nothing more than dragonflies and unicorns. Bits of magical sing song flowers that won't stop to hum to me "God said he loves you" I can't help but believe that even I, this terrible human, is worthy of someone.

On some days the rain begins with subtle hints and on other days it simply pours. But it always ends in playful rainbows, bright sunny skies, and clear white clouds. You, My darling are like rain. Your dark days are not the best of you. 

I am sorry. I was stubborn and young and broken hearted. Nothing good ever came from loving a broken soul. Nothing good ever came from trying to put together shattered glass. I am sorry I left pieces of myself lodged in your hands. I am sorry that I tried to wash the blood but only hurt you. I am sorry that when I could not remove myself from you I tried to sooth you with my poetry. I am sorry that he was still in every poem that I wrote. I am sorry that you met me when I was nothing but shreds of myself. ' I am sorry that my love for him suffocated you. That it wrapped itself so tightly around your throat that you felt his hands crack your neck. And you walk up from bed wondering if I would ever love anything else. If you were enough? I am sorry for all the times you tried to reach beyond my lips and I cried. And you did not know whether to hold me or leave me. Because my skin has began to burn itself in you. ' And you're realising I'm too hot to touch an...

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...

Number 1. Promise me that when our son asks you my faults you'll be honest and say loving you. That godesses shouldn't love men. You'll tell him I am a woman of fire, whose only chill is you. You'll tell him that I burn bright and you cool me down. and you're not sure if that's good or bad. Number 2  Promise me that when our daughter asks you'll give. Number 3 If ever my demons threaten to consume me. If ever I lock myself in a room crying. Do not leave me alone. Do not allow me to only listen to only my breathes. Whisper you love me. Number 4 If ever I wake up and say I want a nose job. Don't tell me I'm beautiful the way I am. I know. Number 5 But don't forget to tell me I'm beautiful. Number 6 Promise me that I won't be the last to know when you stop liking your coffee black with two sugars. Number 7 Promise you'll remember my birthday. Promise you'll love me then. Number 8 On the days you don't feel y...

I’m about 1.5 meters of skin if we forget that bodies are made in loops and bends. I’m about ten shades lighter than black, One shade darker than yellow bone, Apparently still not quite yet red bone. I’m still light enough to sunburn easily, But too dark to tan. Yet not too dark to get darker. My bruises start out green ending in purplish-black patches that hurt almost as long as they last. While Hot showers and back rubs leave me red; Boys who suck my neck complain they cant own me. My legs are a patchwork of dry skin Cracks that sometimes remind me of pans drying after rain. If you pay attention you might notice the tiniest bits of hair. Elsewhere it grows thick, untamed, An expression of myself I’ve got scars Little stories but none in ink just yet. Just folding, healing skin. Little treasures of beauty spots hide across my body Like constellations against a the sky. Instead of silver they’re black Against my 10 shades l...

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.