-


WHO SAID YOU WERE DEAD?
Its two years today since you walked out of this world and out of my life. I sit by the dying embers reminiscing the moments we had but specifically the last day we had together. I know you are happy back there and probably running in a field of orchids or swimming in a stream of strawberry juice. I’m just writing to let you know thought that you never died. To me it still is an illusion, a dream that I will wake from sometime. They have asked me countless times to let the dead go but the question, who said you were dead? I see you every night on a white horse beckoning me to join you but I always wake up just before I reach you and you gallop off into the horizon, I see you when I smell your favourite food cooking. I’d like to let you know that your ghost has never been exorcized from my heart and I have always lived in denial, refusing to believe that you are gone, hoping to wake up in the morning and find you there but when it comes, the bed is filled with emptiness. I have found it hard to say goodbye so i clutch to whatever it is that will keep us together. I’d like to ask you to send me a sign to show all those around here that you are always around, let whoever said you were dead look down in shame and regret. I want you so badly today, more than I’ve ever needed you. I’d like you to know that my heart dies a little everyday when I think of you. I don’t know if two years are enough to let me move on but I won’t be ashamed to tell you that I’m not yet over you. Rest in peace my love and know that I love you to bits and may join you soon, maybe when sense and sanity come flooding back. Godspeed my love, godspeed.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

-
If we must die If we must die, let it not be like cows in the slaughter, walking willingly into the bloodbaths, too meek to resist and too trusting to argue. Let us die like buffaloes in a lion chase or ants in a midday march. Let us die like termites in search of freedom in a hostile world. If we must die, let it not be like birds caught in storm or a deer by a hunter’s spear. Let it not be like foxes caught in traps or flies landing on fire. If we must die, let our death not be told to those with faint hearts and loud wails. Let it not be known by those women who know not to keep their mouth shut. Let it not be told to those frail and on the brink lest they tilt over. If we must die, let the news be hushed and kept silent. Let everyone be told that we refused to be vanquished, that the flame refused to be extinguished. Let them be told that it is not graves but a mound full of seeds and flowers. Lord, if we must die, let us waft out into your presence like sacred incense. Send a ch
Read more
-
Where did you go? I am a walking carcass hoping for a wind strong enough to carry me away, a rain harsh enough to dissolve me into a lump of soil. If I could erase all these memories and go back to the days before I met you, I would. But how sad that I roll in torture during the night and burn during the day. Tell me, old friend, you who made me feel special and important, where did the wind take you? Should I cry for time that conspired against us or should I let you shoulder the burden? I have been reduced into a mess of tears and regret. I have lost my trust and my confidence, come to me, you who gave me strength and take me with you. Tell me I was dreaming and tuck me back to sleep. Smother me with the pillow so I will not wake from this, for what is life, when she that I adored and loved in equal measure walked out on me? Look at me now as I wade knee deep in mud and slime, look at me as I stretch my hands to take you back but oh how far away you are. Come messiah, before
Read more
-
Blandness Many times you have let it be, that anger has blinded your eyes and ire has taken over your life. You have embraced sorrow for so long, and you have stayed too long in your bed of grief, that you remember no more what it feels to be happy. You have ceased to live, and life has long left you. You were a bee, but you have long convinced yourself that you are a fly. Oh son, you have allowed death to rule your soul. You have allowed darkness to carry a sceptre, and declare itself king in the kingdom of your being. You have been chained to a post, by an imaginary rope, and you have been held back by your own fear, like a dog without a chain, but still lies around the chaining post. You have closed the doors and the windows and allowed the smoke to sail into your heart. You have broken all the mirrors because when you look at them you see not the scar on your face but that in your heart, but oh, they do not lie. Count not the graveyards lest they sprout outside in your yard. Do no
Read more