It has been forever, so i decided to pen something down as I picked phrases from where my mind led me. I hope you love it.
I once said that women like us were not meant to be tamed. We were not created to succumb to meager creations of men and be satisfied. Because women like us are meant to drown oceans and roast the flames of Hades kingdom. But I forgot to mention that women like us are never understood, not because we don’t want to be understood, but because finding a mind to understand what we stand for is like looking for hints of rain in the 3pm scorching of the desert.
And this is where my boy of science is stuck. It is like a life hack that hit his lower back without causing an arch and I ache for that. He did not see it coming yet he held it tenderly in the palm of his hands. He did not see it coming yet every day he pushed it into the deep of his neck. Art is in our hearts and art struggles to meet the baby man at the science level and art is dying. I feel it, I see it. I hear its wails in the am of every dawn. Art wants to raise up but the moment art does meet the morning sun rays, art is forced to bow down but the problem is art never bows down because art was created for the heart and if you make the heart bow down, you are putting the soul under the feet and what is life without a soul?
Again, women like us are misunderstood. We know what we want, we can walk the path to that spot we want to be, but putting the name of the path in words is a hustle. Women like us fail to explain because we fail time and again to find the right words, and right phrases. we seem to have been overwhelmed with phrases of explanation. And baby man will not understand, and the world will judge us, and the ground unto which our feet kiss every dawn will fail to hold us up.
Women like us drown oceans, but the ocean has sharks.
My teacher says I should tell the people what I feel. I should say what exactly is in my mind. I look at her and smile, she looks nice. She smells roses. It’s a Friday and she has that small bag she carries, I assume the guy with a blue Volvo will pick her up late. She looks like she is looking forward to that. My face smiles for her and I wish and hope her smile is genuine, not like mine. I hope the guy in the Volvo is not just looking for a warm hole. And at that instant, I frown a little and clench my fists. Maybe it wasn’t a little, because hers also frowned. But being me is a talent, you master the art of masks.
I want to tell her that I can’t tell the world what it wants to hear because that is the case. There is war in my head. There are a yin and yang to every part and fiber of my body.it is like I am an angel with horns, a devil with a halo. I speak poetry even when I’m trying to be friendly and everyone ends up standing up. I want to tell her the truth, I want to lay it on the table, and maybe she will help. But the guy in the Volvo is outside, just arrived. I see her look at her phone, she smiles, and her nipples are hard. She stands and walks across the room swaying her round ass seductively and I drown my sorrows in tomorrow.
She held my hand. I close my eyes. It is no longer women like us. Rather, a woman like me. A woman like me drowns in oceans