a broken hearted girl

By Cristabell Muhwehwesa

Why do we choose to drop the precious vases custom made for us?
Ones that could have germinated our mustard seeds.
Now they are left to be scorched by the sun.
Why do we pretend to be amphibious?
Yet all we yearn for is that deep breath poised to keep us alive.

Why didn’t you stitch it in time when that’s all I needed from you?
Now it has turned into rags that can no longer hold our grain.
A love like a shattered wine glass reassembled with strapping tape.
That bottle of Chardonnay you pour in it leaks through the cracks.
Pooling on the table where you set the glass, the only thing still intact.

How can I fix your heart when the thief does not remember what he stole?
The little things are now matted like lymph nodes harbouring tuberculosis.
How can I blame you for breaking my heart when I never lived?
I saw you, I liked you, a piece of chicken on the pharaoh’s table.
I was an Israelite from Goshen.

How do I swallow my pride, admit I made a mistake and want you back?
How do I say I’m sorry or separate the pieces from the puzzle?
Maybe I should have tried to understand you better.
I thought I was ceramic, but I cracked when the heat was unbearable.
Maybe our love was only imagination, virtual reality, not real after all?

I had a nameless tag, while you wore Saint Laurent.
No matter how I dressed, I couldn’t match your mates.
Neither were the contents of my conversation captivating enough.
So what if I tried so hard to be what you wanted?
You would never notice.

I was drowning, on my way to the Titanic.
We scratched each other’s skins deep into the hypodermis
We left blood oozing, not to be stopped by any form of bandage.
We wanted to dance to the drum of each other’s crises.
Maybe that would fill our empty calabashes so we could enjoy drinking?

Well then, mi vida, you succeeded.
Because I miss you.
Your abuse exercised my auricular muscles better than did this silence.
Because when I had your abusive words, at least I had a piece of cake.
Now I suffer hunger until I reach the bottom of the sea.

19 November, 2023