Being Loved While Broken

Being Loved While Broken

I must be honest with you. The thought of breaking my family’s curses was daunting. So, I broke you instead, piece by peace.

Now, I’m here, coming into the full realization that I was never quite ready for you, your holding. I was too hardened and cold deep inside. I have… had to be.

I was merely a terrified soldier. I’ve never been held through the piercing chills of the night – so even when you do hold me, I hold myself tighter, in case you let go abruptly. I’m used to running marathons, alone, prone to suffering.

I’m used to running. Period.

You thought I prefer toxicity, but honestly, I grew up hugging and kissing my mom in park stations. I’m used to transits, not conventional homes. Always moving. And, so I’ve been briefly loved by men who were neither here nor there. I’ve always had to ultimately tell my friends; “it fell through.”

I buried the last one who was here, who sounded like you, in my backyard. He didn’t stand a chance. I punished him for not being absent. He dismantled me. And, the deep unconditional love I never reciprocated is embedded in me as lifetime guilt.

But today, as I’m finally leaving the deep end of the ocean to the shore, I’m thinking; life is beautiful! Life is full with new beginnings. Rebirths everywhere, every day.

I can no longer be ‘on the way to…’

You’ve undressed me and loved me even when I was completely naked, with nowhere to hide. I can’t help but feel your love touching each and every cell in my body and, sometimes, in a twisted dark way, it’s heart-wrenching. Every time your love lights up my heart and lingers in a smile, I have to admit I’ve been bankrupt for far too long picking up every scrap I could find to compensate.

I love you. And, I love how you love me. I want it as much as I am terrified of it. I am scared. Uncomfortable. But I want it so bad that it hurts. I want to walk through the discomforts of having a man so sentimental and sensitive. You don’t have to worry about being buried in my backyard, the only person who needs to die is the terrified soldier who ran marathons alone. She is standing in the way and I cannot account for her existence anymore. She has to die for us to thrive.

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Ziphozakhe Hlobo

Ziphozakhe Hlobo



The reason he found infinite beauty in the absurdity of the world, amidst the hostility of impediments a mid-aged widower could find himself swathed inside, which could easily lead to glooming days filled with malice.

Delights & Wails

Delights & Wails

My aunt would always beg her spoilt son to “grace us with his presence” and we’d roll our eyes when he finally came through, beginning our Christmas Lunch tradition long after my aunt had retired. There was often turmoil in the house and her sanity amid the insanity came in the form of rooibos tea, newspapers and gardening.

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