The Joy Scribbles

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. 

My cousin recently tied the knot, i decided to share a few of the snaps i took on her special day.

Number1 I haven't gotten the email confirming whether my poem has made the finally selection for this. But I'm excited and I hope to be getting a confirmation soon. :) I made into the "semi-final"round I guess. Not that its a competition but I'm happy. I will be even happier if I make the selection for the final online Fusion. Even if i don't. I'm really proud of all the Batswana Poets that made it. :) voice newspaper article on the project 2. Botswana Amateur Arts Festival. again confirmation will follow. :)

The truth is half the time we’re not telling the truth or hearing the truth or seeing the truth or feeling the truth. The truth is we’re spineless scum. We don’t like each other. We lie and we search for everything even when we know we’re nothing. We’re nothing important. You’re nothing important. Who am I to tell you that? I’m nothing. But you’re still reading this. Because you’re hoping I’ll tell you the truth. That I won’t lie. But I lie. I lie all the time. But there is one person I never lied to. And he lied. And now I don’t care about the truth. Cause no one will never tell me the truth. We’re all lies. Not that we’re untrue. We’re just portions of the truth. It’s a puzzle and each of our truths fits perfectly. But I can’t zoom out and see the bigger picture. Just my truth. And the truth you told me. That’s the truth.

It smells of lovely scents of sugar and cinnamon and glorious coffee. I've never been to a bakery this beautiful. i loved it. i brought home dozens of little treats. :) And the coffee was heavenly... i had 2 cups. I quite possibly might be in love with Johannesburg because of this bakery. TREATS IN THE BAKERY COOKIES. :) FRENCH CROISSANTS IN DIFFERENT FLAVOURS GINGER BREAD MEN AND CHOCOLATE TREATS CHOCOLATE MOUSSE CAKE I HAD FOR BREAKFAST MY EMPTY CAPPUCCINO CUP.