Impossible, Again

I remember what it was like to feel my chest tighten every time you stopped loving me. How my body learned the pattern before my mind did. Oh the panic when I could not bargain for what was not on offer, no matter how hard I tried.

I’m listening to Shontelle’s Impossible. A reminder that I should have been careful. A reminder that it’s happened again because I wasn’t careful. A warning that I should be careful now.

I know what it feels like when my chest tightens and my whole nervous system goes into red alert. I have lived inside that moment before. Called him love even when he was warm and cold. All conversations shifting into raised voices and I could not tell what set the landmines off. When love disappeared while still standing in front of me. I hold that pain without naming it, because naming it makes it too real to ignore.

I hate how I have taught my heart that love feels like longing. That waiting is intimacy. That confusion is invitation. I distrust letting my guard down, such a setup, to be blindsided when quickly the ground beneath gives way.

You say you are a safe space. And I find myself wondering what that really means, how it looks when trusted, how it holds when I am not quiet or convenient or composed. I want to believe you. I want to rest there. But my heart hesitates, not because it doubts you, but because it remembers.

I am noticing how easily your reassurance calms me, and how quickly I begin to fear needing it again. I am curious about why having needs feels like asking for too much. About why my instinct is to shrink when what I want is to reach. About how often I silence myself in the hope that love will stay.

I wonder if you feel it too. The subtle distance that appears when my anxiety rises. The way I try to soften my needs as you pull, unsure whether closeness is something we move toward together, or something I am meant to manage alone. I am not certain where this leads. I am only aware of the tension between wanting to go with the flow and wanting to feel safe.

Perhaps this is where I am meant to listen.. to my body, to the music, to the quiet truths that surface. Perhaps this is where I am meant to pause. To live in the moment. To notice your gentleness.

Forgiveness

Forgiving is pretty easy.

To easily let go of pain and hurt,

Because you see the human behind the offence, and

Want them to have the dignity that comes with being pardoned.

However... being betrayed reveals that forgiveness isn't the end.

That there is a hell lying in wait, ready to consume this innocent soul,

To tear apart at the pieces you strain to hold together,

And the sweet embrace of nightmares consoles like fantasies. 

Every broken piece of your heart becomes like a broken mirror.

Now you see too many unclear images, a jumbled up reflection.

Trusting seems like the foreplay to more pain.

Interacting with love has shown you that:

    This your heart cannot bear every weight it claims,

    Your nine hearts would shatter into million fissures,

    A chaotic canvas of storms weathered.

This Nairobi love has shown you that:

    Forgiveness is not a magic spell that mends all wounds,

    It neither erases the scars nor rewinds the clock,

    It's a fragile bridge dangling over currents of doubt.

This is how it ends

This is how it ends
With me acting like I don't care that you are leaving
Saying that you are not worth fighting for
Reminding myself that this didn't mean much

We were never really a couple anyway, were we?

This is how it ends

With me laughing at the intensity of the flame we shared

At the promises of eternal love you swore while in the throes of passion

At the futile efforts I made to rekindle our dying flame

We were not really committed anyway, were we?

This is how it ends

With me forgetting the taste of your flavoured kisses 

feigning amnesia on the dates you routinely cancelled

And the texts you routinely forgot to answer

We were never more than 'jus talking', were we?

This is how it ends

With me refusing to cry over the promises left unfulfilled

And the climaxes yet unreached

You didn't just rip my heart apart anyway, did you?
Because we were never really a 'we', were we?