I am starting to see life for what it is.
A series of mistakes, that if repeated, lead to destruction of self.
Languishing in it makes misery my home.
I could push past myself and love me ’cause I’m lovable.
I am starting to see love for what it is, not what I want it to be. All the words I hold in my tongue so I don’t offend you and the decisions I make despite your advice. And the frustration you have with my ways.
My frustration with you not being on my side.
You won’t love me to my death bed, I heard you say that.
I don’t want to be the kind of person that constantly surpresses who I am and what I want to fit into a world that couldn’t care less.
I don’t want to run away from things that haven’t happened yet.
I fell into the darkness I thought was myself and couldn’t get up.
I am loving myself. It means looking her in the eye every day and giving her pleasures she’s never had.
And that’s okay.
How many times, in this house, have I thought about dying.
How many times have I lived.
Ive walked this hall in pain and euphoria
I’ve lied and cheated people I loved.
I’ve burst open and spilled my blood all over.
Cut some glass and used it on her.
I’ve cried for death, more than I’d like to admit.
I’ve drowned in tears for someone else’s benefit.
My skin became foreign
My soul let me alone
I came out of my own body
I moved out of my home.
I came clean and cleaned myself up
In a vat of alcohol
I lit matches with lost loves
I floated through open doors without my knowledge.
I gave up.
I found love.
I am finding my way through corners.
Here is a little something I found as I was going through my journals this morning….
This is as raw and as natural as it gets. An old poem about an old love that was never mine. And instead of getting rid of it I’ve decided to share it and let it go. This is an exercise in self love, release and honestly.
Mwiitu wa Mbula