You sound so distant, Poetry by Kela Maswabi

Genre: Fear, Hope: Love: Relationships, Hurt, Inspiration, Painful, Pressure, Redemption, and Ascending to Your Truth

You sound so distant
by Kela Maswabi

You sound so distant…
You’re probably not but
The voices in my head are
Persistent
They insist that
You don’t like being here
Much, that you feighn
Pleasure when our skins touch…
That one day this house of cards is going to give into the whims of the most subtle breeze and fall to the nothing it was before and I’d flat line through life like I did before

Love, my love, was a story best told in between the folds of a Disney book
The perfect romance was a Hollywood rom-com of blue eyed, blonde haired tall and thin girls, no illusions there, I knew my day would never come
I’d grown accustomed to the cold.
The ice in my mind had long extended its sharp fangs to pierce my left ventricle, no amount of look like love glue could stop the bleeding…

Too many a time this lass has been disregarded, used and discarded. So many want in and when they see me they can’t wait to get out Because of this I’m guarded… So this being loved for real stuff is new to me… Believe me…

I prayed for you, meditated for you
Burned incense, toked blunts and the bliss that engulfed me, were visions of you. Through life’s BS visions of you sustained me. You heard my soul’s most primal call and beyond the cosy snuggles and kissy faces you’re here to transpose the darkness I hide with quick wit with the light your green chakrah emits. You’re here to love me.

So yes, I’m scared… not about you leaving or cheating…
I’m petrified
of you standing

amid my ruins

and

looking around,

slowly,

    intently.

Even more terrified of you saying you’re staying. Here.
Making THIS your home
When I hate it here most times, it looks like the colosseum.
It was a battleground for demons and I. And I was the one always meeting my death.

But here you are… Finding beauty in spaces I find ugly,
It jarrs my mind, how you care for nothing but caring for me
Even when I make it hard. Especially when I make it hard.

Even when I’m fighting you I’m wanting you, when my actions say leave, my heart’s begging you to stay. When you get a little too close to my raw bits, I spew venom, it cuts like glass. The shards that tear into you, are pieces of a broken me that have been buried beneath my toungue
for all my life I was browbeaten so I would learn to hold my toungue.
When I lift my tongue to kiss you, you ventilate graveyards… these ghosts aren’t confined by wit or decorum, or keeping face, or etiquette, no, no, they glide through any fences and pretences put up, and, find you. I want to cut my tongue off. Even now, I’m afraid to speak. And here you are…

Listening to me….

    Ramble…
    Again.

And with bloody lips, fearlessly, you kiss me again.

You kiss me.

The voices in my head hush.
For love so true banishes death from my breath…
In this moment I’m drenched in your strength and sage knowing that love will battle for love.
I KNOW now that love isn’t something you’re told, it unfolds its self in the rubble of your soul

Hand in hand we walked through my soul today, found the ruins of a temple. The one demons had trampled, in unison lips parted and began to fashion prayers in tongues
Hossanahs hummed by contracting lungs to the beat of pounding drums of love muscles fist bumping one another through our chests knowing that in this shrine is where forever rests and to this the rhythm of life can attest.

By WILDsound Festival

Submitters reactions to their feedback on their stories. New testimonials coming each month! Watch this month's winning readings. At least 15 performances a month: www.wildsoundfestival.com Submit your script, story, poem, or film to the festival today: www.wildsound.ca

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