Archive for September, 2010

in the ocean…

“For the first few months it hurt so much I couldn’t breathe.

I felt no one could possibly have experienced pain the way

I have. When I opened my eyes in the morning I couldn’t

imaigne how I’d get to the end of a day without you. It

felt like my heart had broken in a way no one else’s

heart had ever broken. I felt lost. Pointless.

Intensely alone.”


Nie heeltemal soos verlang nie

In die laeveld verlang ek na jou


is dit amper asof daar vrede is

Amper soos rus

Amper asof die wereld weer kan sin maak


kan ek al’s wat gedoen is

ongedaan maak

en die woorde wat

tussen ons geval het

vir ewig uitvee


maak dit nie saak

of ons sin maak nie

net die bome

die rivier

die asem

die vrede

Amper asof hierdie die regte wereld is en alles anders net fiksie

Amper asof ek weer vir jou kan lief wees

Om niks te voel nie

Jy lyk verbaas oor die vuur in my oe

Onthou jy nie hoe jy stukkie vir stukkie

die son uit elke hoekie van my dag

kom uitvee het nie?

Onthou jy nie

hoe jy die donker skadu


oor elke oomblik laat sak het en

hoe jy ‘n swart wolk in elke woord

en elke asem

en elke oggend

kom gooi het nie?

Onthou jy hoe ek dit skaars tot by my voordeur kon maak

sonder om plat teen my teelvloer te val

en met my wang teen die grond

in die stilte in te bly snik?

Onthou jy nie hoe ek voor God

geskree het

gesmeek het

om net ‘n stukkie van my pyn weg te neem


dat sy ook dalk sou seerkry, sou val

of dalk erger


dat julle ‘n oomblik van my pyn

kon ervaar

Jy lyk verbaas oor die ys in my oe

Onthou jy hoe ek later niks meer

kon voel nie?

Natuurlik nie

Jy was mos nie meer daar nie

Because you’ve been me

Of course you have an opinion.

Of course you’ve been 26, unmarried, with no prospects.

Of course you’ve seen the things I’ve seen and heard the things I’ve heard.

Of course you’ve felt exactly the way I feel and had the same experiences I’ve had.

Of course you’ve loved like me, lost like me and cried like me.

Of course you’ve laughed like me.

Of course you have my background, seen the world I do and experience the same temptations I do.

Of course you’re allowed to judge my life

in different skin

They looked different.

Some were tall, some shorter, a striking blonde with dreadlocks, a dark-haired beauty, a girl with large glasses and cropped hair.

They were all skinny.

And fashionable.

They dressed so that people would notice them. Or maybe overlook them and notice the way they dress.

But they were the same person.

Their eyes gave them away.




Watching us die

She’d seen them die too many times not to recognise the signs.

Seen them die with different faces.

Different names.

It seemed like she recognised the signs earlier each time it happened, but had not yet learned how to prevent them from running their natural course.

The first signs were noticable only to a keen observer, as she was. The slow dying of what was between them. She’d seen it many times before. It starts subtly, small irritations, nagging doubts. Forgetting to ask how his day was. Forgetting to hear how her interview went. The gap falling inbetween them as both of them stopped to care. She’s been in this exact same place so many times before, she could see it coming before either of them realised.

They wouldn’t recognise the smell of death until they were too consumed to do anything about it. Until they were too worn out to fight it off.

Sometimes they would pretend to put up a last fight, but this was just the sad encore to the one hit wonder that had become them. The audience had left. No one expected anything. It was just for appearance sake that they pretended to make it work.

She had experienced this death too many times before. Experienced the slow, cruel, gasping last breaths of what used to be two people who could talk about anything, wonder what to say next. Watch a comfortable silence become an awkward mumbling of irrelevant word.  The people were always different. The faces change, but the course remained the same.

This time she would not fight. No kicking. No screaming. Just irredeemable sumbission to what was to come. She would give up and walk away. The alternative hurt too much. It would only delay the inevitable.

Death came knocking again (like she knew it would) and she was too tired to fight it this time.

Knocking down walls and building bridges

Dear you

I know we knocked down some walls, but we haven’t build bridges in their place yet. It still hurts when you talk to me. I’m still reaping the pain that you sowed so freely. Sometimes I still find myself wanting to prove to you that I am kind and patient and special and not messed up and full of issues as you made me out to be. I often wonder if I do what I do, just to prove to you that I am more than you made me to be.

I just wanted to let you know that I’m not sure I wanted to build a bridge with you again. I’m not sure I want you to sow into me again.

Regards/Love (see what you do to me?)



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