The Interview.

“Right,” He said, eyes roving over her with interest, “What can you bring to the marriage?”

She looked at him as if he were the only man in the room; to her, he was the very oxygen she needed in order to survive, “I will love you with every fibre of my being. Until I die, everything that I am will be yours.”

He nodded slowly, “Right… erm, but can you iron a straight pleat in formal trousers? It’s really an essential skill in a woman, you know?”

Shadows.

You say that I speak of (my) darkness too much.

With my heart stripped bare before your eyes,

I stand,

my shadows a gift for the

searching ones.

Don’t you know that light that shines too brightly,

blinds?

My gift.

Sometimes,

the only thing that I have to give to you,

is me.

Cracked and fragile;

pain oozing from dark places

that I can’t even see.

But, you do.

You see,

and you don’t flinch.

You catch me when I fall;

tenderly you bind me up;

stuff love in the holes,

and stop me from leaking out of

my memories.

How do you craft such a strong

net from

my brokenness?

Escape.

Every night, she read the same book.

It became her nightly escape; dancing into the world that she encountered on the crisp pages.

Until tragedy struck one stormy night.

Her dingy bedsit caught fire.

Everything was destroyed, except for a book of fairy tales that lay on the charred remains of the bed.

Pages scorched; it lay open as if it had just been read.

Except that, no body was ever found.

On Motherhood.

For you,

I lay down my darkness.

When it calls,

I turn my back;

refuse the siren call of my escape.

Only,

for you.

Because,

in your eyes,

I see the only light that shines kindly on my

empty places.

You,

are my

redemption.

 

 

I walked in shame, until.

I wore a lifetime of shame

before I finally realised,

that the poisoned refrain you sang over me,

was birthed from your own fractured dreams.

—I walked in shame, until.