EPUBLI

Prinzessinnenstraße 20

10969 Berlin

www.epubli.de

All rights reserved.

Carolyne Afroetry MA.

Published by ProMosaik LAPH, 2020.

PART ONE

His heart was like

dry patched land

I was a fool to believe

anything would

grow there

No matter how hard

I irrigated

and sowed

We couldn’t germinate

His sickness was so profound.

I thought that I could change him.

I carried his cross on my back like

Simon of Cyrene

Wore his imperfections around my

Neck like a necklace

Like a sacrificial lamb about to be

Slaughtered

I offered myself on his

Altar of deception with hope that

My love for him would change him.

I pledged my allegiance to

His cause

Allowed him to baptize and

Ordain me

My gut feeling was just another

Jealous bitch trying to tarnish his name

I stood strong besides him like a

Fortress in the middle ages

Told myself that I could fix him

Defended him like Mayweather

In the boxing ring

Covered his tracks with the pixie dust

Accumulated from his inconsistencies

Re-arranged his twisted lies in a

Colored box to feed my illusory mind

I even shed my beautiful skin like a

Snake just to please him

The traffic was noisy

He couldn’t see it.

I became a scapegoat for Self-loathing.

A fake pharmacist trying to treat his

Disease with over the counter medicine

Just a schmuck trying to convince a

Tortoise that it can fly

Nothing I did made him change

He was incapable of altering his spots

For me

I knew he was sick when we met.

The writing on the wall was as

Bold as brass.

His affection blindly made me

Believe that he could change.

His idiosyncrasies, I accepted.

I promised to love and support him

Through his trials and tribulations

The treatment failed to work

My love wasn't enough

Gravity couldn’t hold us

Last night,

I tripped over a suitcase of

Old feelings and

Landed on my face

The whistling kettle awakens

Memories, forgotten

Echoes of your baritone voice jars my

Conflicted mind

Solemn walls provoke questions,

Dismissed

Love is a homeless person

Loving you feels like

Purgatory.

Suffering is the

ultimate Sacrifice

For your trust

He heaves a heavy sigh

The silent eloquence gnaws at

My insides

Words hang like electric poles

Like daybreak bereft of a birdsong

Slivers of unsaid sentences spin

Around like a record.

His silence is louder than my thoughts

Love is an isolation

Battle that always leaves

Muted conversations hanging like

Porcelain cups

The neighbor’s verandah light

Filters through the gaps of

My Muzigo curtains

The cold cuts through my skin

Like scalpels of a past love.

The city hangs like a

Broken chandelier

Buildings dressed in black stand

Tall like a date in a tux.

Weather flogged street lamps peer

Through dark alleys

Stark naked streets unwind in quiet eloquence.

The night croons the blues

Us is an empty street

I never loved hotels

They reminded me of all

The men who never stayed

I was tired of being a guest.

I wanted a home.

I served the world my pain for

breakfast

Kneaded my problems into dough

and made chapattis

Mixed my tears with coffee grounds

and brewed the best coffee

Watched the world mock my

Afflictions at the dining table

As the sun woke from a beautiful

Slumber.

Another hard day

You fold me like laundry.

Iron out my feelings with

Playful semantics

Promise forever once again to an

Empty Street

With shards of me strewn on the

Concrete floor

I was tucked in a mental con.

I got so comfortable with disrespect

That even I started believing

I wasn’t good enough.

I have always been attracted to

Broken things

Like old torn asphalt walkways

Chipped china

Shards of glass

Peeling wall paint

Squeaky door hinges

Creaky door frames

Shattered windows

Cracked floor tiles

Slivered onions

Broken homes

Broken bed frames

And broken pencils

Wounded spirits

Somehow they make me

Forget that I am just as

Broken

Our relationship was unhealthy.

I shoved his lies down my throat

Like junk food and became

Emotionally obese

No matter how hard I worked out

I couldn’t trim this weight

With him, I always felt like

A tatty room

A threadbare floor rug

Ragged clothes and worn out

Shoes

Stained bed linen and used

Condom wrappers

Like plumes of smoke erupting out

Of a messy kitchen

Film of grease around the gas stove

Crumbs all over the sofa

Like a dilapidated road.

No wonder he treated me like

A journey

He didn’t intend to stay

He built a distillery around me and

Treated me like a bottle of Jack Daniels.

Ten times high

I drowned shots of his lies and woke

Up in a pool of vomit

Seething for him

Cringing from the aching inside my cranium

Couldn’t tell fact from fiction

Evidence of last night’s atrocities were

Printed on my skin

Yet still I thirsted for his lies

I enabled him

The lies made me feel good

Ours was a strange relationship

Each day, he laid me on the chopping

Board and run incisions through my

Nude skin with scalpels just to create

A hurricane in my eyes

He claimed that the violence made

Us stronger

So he treated me like an onion.

You peel my skin,

I let you

Chop me like an onion

Even Jesus wept

I weep for you

You bleed me out

I intrude.

Plead, I stutter

Pour salt on my

Exposed wound

The crucifixion is righteous

My affliction is just.

And I will carry this

Cross like Simon of Cyrene

You grab my ass with

Your slave hands

Tell me you love me

I believe you

Dim my shine

It is our shine

You protest

Dip your tongue inside my mouth

Feed me with the same

Poison that kills me

I let you

I wasn't strong

I was wron