When you meet your Beloved.

I can’t wait to be able to say I was baptized instead of drowning. I’m still learning how to swim in me, I’m still trying to figure out how not to drown others. I am still learning to be gentle with her.

Sometimes I look at her and feel absolutely nothing, I feel the heaviness of spending the rest of my life with this woman who just becomes too heavy for me sometimes. She swells when she is hurt, swells when she is in love, swells when pleasure comes- if it ever comes at all.

Why should I stay with her when the rest of her lovers often disappear, they often get lost in her abundance and accuse her of kidnapping. She has been in relationships where love came with receipts and that’s why I she indebted to herself.

Relationships are so difficult. And on some days loving myself feels like an arranged marriage that was decided for me at birth and the person I’m meant to spend my life with makes me want to run away-I think about running away from myself a lot. On most days i wake up drenched in love. Not drowned. Dripping.

I remember the first time I saw her. I mean I have looked before at her but I had never really seen her. I knew deeply in my heart that I was looking at my true love. I loved her in a way that’s so rooted the ground breaks. I loved her despite her shortcomings and flaws. I loved her scars and traumas I loved her in a way that never stuttered.

And saw it too. She looked back at me in a way that moved me deeply. Her eyes read, “Come home love, it’s safe here. It’s safe in this love. This love is a safe space for you.” I looked at her and said “I have arrived, Beloved.”

I’ll never forget that day. The day I looked at myself and knew that I had met my true love.

https://rederrty97.wordpress.com/2016/03/16/questions-for-ada/

This poem shows how compex the relationship that you have with yourself can be. It comes from Ijeoma Umebinyuo’s Questions for Ada and is an anthology of poetry that deals with self love and healing and how you do not need to compromise your self love in order to be loved. You belong deeply to yourself.

http://www.yourtango.com/2016295418/25-empowering-rupi-kaur-quotes-every-strong-woman-feminist

This is 25 poems by Rupi Kaur, author of Milk and Honey. She is a feminist and throughout the journey she takes us in her book, she shows how she survived through poetry and that learning to love yourself is a crucial part of healing.

7 Friendly Reminders.

1. You do not deserve a love that keeps you up at night wondering if you’re enough.
2. You are an ocean, you made it clear from the beginning. People will drown trying to reduce you to a stream. That’s not your problem.
3. You’re a lot. Why do you talk about yourself like you’re too much? Your hands hold you so well. Watch your language.
4. That heart. You can guard something without closing it off.
5. Independence is not loneliness. Not always.
6. Be honest. To yourself, you don’t deserve lies for comfort.
7. Waves return and so will the love you’ve been giving. You deserve it too.

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Five Days

I take 5 days to get over tragedies.
On day one: I pull out all the strings I’ve attached to you.
Feelings filled with helium. Lifted.
It’s hard to breathe in the clouds so I tie myself to the ground.
On day two: I teach my tongue new words so it stops writing your name all over my mouth. My lips tell me that saying your name came with separation anxiety.
Sometimes saying it too fast so they never have to part for too long and sometimes saying it slowly so it lasts a little longer.
On day three: I spend it trying to convince my eyes to stop searching for you in rooms I walk into. I ask them why do they become paralyzed when they find you?
Staring at you until you finally look back because you move me even in the most subtle ways.
On the fourth day: I stay in the shower until I’ve erased my skin’s memory of yours. Selective Amnesia. I forget the shower and remember your skin. Melting into each other, sculpturing, shaping masterpieces.
On the fifth day: I write my hands love letters, I tell them to stop writing to a love that won’t write back.
So i bury my feelings for you.
But at the grave site appeared the most beautiful garden I have ever seen.
So my feelings continue to grow.
Beautifully. And I will make bouquets of apologies out of them for myself.

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Weathered

My thoughts are wrapped around you
Tightly, like knots in my hair
I tried to grow out my hair
In attempts to outgrow you.
I heard you love books
Would you enter the libraries within me,
Filled with my unspoken words
And hidden scriptures of your smile.
I mean I haven’t been the same since
We twirled around like tornados joined at the tongue.
Messing up your room
Messed up your life.
Messed me up.
Messy. You are my 3am poetry.
Your skin feels like clouds.
You are cumulonimbus
I mean you walk into a room
And the atmosphere becomes unstable at your entrance.
At first glance
You indicate thunderstorms.
Flash floods of feelings.
But like every cloud.
You lift me.

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Women Like You

People like me do not crumble, we crash. Waves.
An entire ocean running to you
Mistaking your brown skin for a sandy shoreline-
My thoughts keep returning to you.
But boundaries
ocean cross shorelines
And that’s how disasters happen.
Tectonic shifts
You’re pulling apart my logic
Splitting me open
My walls are falling
And I cannot stop you
I don’t want to.
Storms in my throat
From all the things I cannot say.
You are living proof that there is beauty in destructions
Why do I keep calling this chaos passion.
I cannot stop natural disasters.
I cannot stop the way you are happening to me.
I don’t want to.

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Fantasize

Your name fills my mouth
The same way your lips did.
Days later, ripple effects of your touch still lingering.
Something so disastrous
But You want more of it
A longer volcanic eruption
You didn’t burn enough.
A longer earthquake
You want to feel tremors
A tsunami that lasts longer
Because you want to drown.
No inhibitions, these walls want to know you.
Screams your name. Practicing.
Your mind is a constellation.
I love stargazing.
There is no déjà vu for this experience. Just You.
I want proximity.
And each strand of hair to know you
As your touch my mind-me.
Pour into me. The way rain seeps into the earth-replenishing.
Lets get deep and
Explore the depths of each other.
Literally.
I see the way you look at me.
You are a landlocked country
And I have brought the Indian Ocean to your feet.
You are the Sahara desert
I am bringing the rain.
You are experiencing a famine
I am preparing a seven colours meal for you.
The beauty in not knowing.
Fantasizing. Soaking in it before it dries.
Don’t look for me in this poem
Look for yourself.

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