I decided we play “catch” with our hearts and I suggested he went first.
So he threw his heart at me, as it made its way into the comfort of my catch I decided to duck and it hit the ground.
At first it wasn’t with intention but with the thoughts that struck I just had to.
It came to my attention that he’s an asshole, and when dealing with his kind one has to gel and blend.
I became one with him, I was an asshole, I ducked his heart and it hit the ground.
I broke his heart.
What would you say if I came to you and asked you to consider staying in my life forever?!
Would you be interested?
What if I chose to be yours for life, promised to love you forever and swore to never dream beyond our castle?!
Would that be ok?
You taught me how to fly when I didn’t even believe in wings.
You made me realize how easy it is to stand up tall when I didn’t even think getting up was possible.
You make me believe that catching dreams with a butterfly net isn’t insane but simply fashionable.
You’re that part of me I missed all my life but I never knew I ever had.
A series of strings that has managed to keep me together.
Sthandwa sami you’re my joy, my pride and my strength.
Without you I’m a tree without brunches on which the world can’t feed.
So would you please show interest in staying in my life forever?
I mean simply allow me to name myself “YOURS” and promise to never imagine me out of your world.
Simply because, ngiyak’thanda wena Jobe wami.
Has my “virgin heart” really turned into stone? Is it really that hard and cold?
…because I’ve been looking for forgiveness and I just can’t find it.
All the beauty it once possessed has disappeared and darkness has chosen to find itself a home.
Once a home now an empty, old dirty castle of darkness, fear and painful memories of all the bridges I had to build just to get over the hurt that came into my heart and broke down all the strong walls I kept up.
All the walls I built with “happiness-bricks”.
You know it’s funny how I once thought hurt wasn’t tailored for me. I thought I was just too damn happy to feel an ounce of pain but hey, reality says that I’m only human and like any other human being I’m bound to get hurt and feel… feel the need to drop to my knees and weep like a widowed woman.
Weep and cry because of a broken glass-virgin heart.
I really thought hurt wasn’t tailored for me but you came into my life and made me fall in line with all the broken hearted girls. Singing songs of “why, what, how and how much?” As if the bed they lay upon has all the answers to their rhetorical questions.
I was foolish I know. Blinded by your love I know. I was blind, I know. Falling for all your stories of “make-believes” I was blind.
In happily ever afters you got me to believe.
…but now that’s an old book I’ve closed and kept down the old shed and ounces of dust have settled on it.
All that is forgotten and I’m a new person now.
Can I write to Khumbul’ekhaya? …and have them remind you to khumbula ekhaya.
Because they say: “Home is where the heart is. ”
…and you once said I should always know that wherever you are your heart will always be with me.
Can I write to Relate?
…and have them help us and educate us on how to relate, because to me this relationship has no relation.
It’s just mutual distance with no direction.
Allow my to write to Love Back.
I need them to help me trace your emotions.
My love, it seems like you’re gone and you can’t seem to find your way back.
I need to get my love back.
Can’t we take it all back to what it once was?
Can’t we start afresh and promise each other the world and all it’s made of?
Can’t you just go back to being the heart-entrepreneur you once was and sell me all the dreams in the world?
I wish I could just write to All You Need Is Love, ngoba wena sthandwa sami wang’lahla and I just know that all you need is my love.
Come home and find your love, my love.
Mend his heart just to break it apart because “all men are the same” and all of them shall pay for the sins of one.
“Don’t mess with a broken-hearted girl” is what I always tell these vultures but they never seem to listen because they’re men and they somehow seem to think that they’re stronger than us ‘women”…
…stupid. I know!
..but now it’s our time to teach them a lesson. Let them understand that like humans we also feel pain. Let them know that like them we also need to be listened to. Let them see that our voices matter as much as theirs and that EMOTIONALLY we’re stronger and much more dangerous.
So…now the plan is for us to go poaching for all the “broken-hearted” men, mend their hearts just to break them apart and have them singing the “all women are the same” song, like we have for decades.
…because now, like never before we demand to be respected.