Love Letter To My Ex
Hi Bestie,
I’m a hoarder, you already know. But not just of things, or of data, I have managed to somehow hoard emotions too, store them away for safekeeping. To never be tampered with. Maybe because I didn’t know how to deal, with all of it, all at once, all on my own.
But then I met Jola, first through her letters and then in person. And I realized I didn’t have to deal with it, all at once, or all on my own.
Thank you Jola, for writing “Love Letter to my Ex”, and by that, helping me unpack.
There’s a lot in storage, so we’ll start with these boxes:
A POEM FOR OUR LOVE.
It was the sort of love spoken of in books, beyond the dreams of simple minded folk as I.
Love worthy of the attention of poets and gods.
With excitement enough to keep adventurers and restive spirits enthralled.
It was the kind of love preached about in unions, Strong enough to enslave mighty men of valor.
It was a huge cliché and then it was more.
It was the comfort of a friend’s company and the freedom to be honest.
It was the surrender of self and the trust in another human being.
It was the genuine interest in what the other had to say.
It was an extension of self, a connection so natural that it made sense then that two could be one.
It was the liberty to hold opposing views and the respect of another’s individuality.
It wasn’t perfect. Perfect would mean it was done, far from it, the love was growing.
It was learning.
And it was grateful for the opportunity to love.
OUR STORY THROUGH MY EYES.
The Red land.
Benin, Nigeria: the ancient city where I fell in love.
Red earth, that’s what meets my eyes when they open to see the land neath a sign board that reads Sapele road, Benin city. The mud, it’s everywhere, its dry particles carried by the hot wind to sprinkle on everything in sight. A fine dusting of red to give this city a rustic shimmer.
Mother gives the taxi driver the address as I take in the familiar smell of this strange new place, it’s a market where we stop. A woman beside me is serving her customer from a cooler of pile high fried rice graced with large pieces of turkey dyed bright pepper red. I get into the back seat and resume my journey nap, because I have motion sickness and can’t stay awake for long. There’s not much to see anyways, I have the next four years to learn this route.
Red dust, it’s what my friend doesn’t want on her carpet when I rush in to tell her I’ve met the love of my life. “I swear this is the one, I’ve found the man I’m going to marry” What does he look like? her eyes sparkle, mirroring my excitement. “no idea” I cry, my eyes not losing an iota of glee. “But Blessing, his voice, I never heard anything so beautiful, so sure, so kind, so knowing” I insist, “and what was he saying?” she asks, her eyes, now slanted in disbelief, unbelieving that her friend had fallen in love with a voice.
Red land, it is what’s beneath my feet when my eyes find his. Onyeka, he says as his hand stretches out to meet mine. I say, “No, Susan” not realizing he is saying his name. The grip is firm and warm but his palm is soft. his eyes are bold when he says, after we had cleared up the misunderstanding. I see you have a blackberry, may I have your pin? his voice is soft, a tender whisper.
As I write my bbm pin on a lopsided piece of paper (which I can swear is still somewhere in his room) I think: oh my God, I finally get to see the face attached to this voice and it is so much better than just the voice.
Red dust, it has settled on the window panes behind him. my hands are in his cold soft hands and his eyes are like a soldier’s in battle: courageous but scared. The voice is the same when he asks me to be his. I want to enjoy this moment, but I don’t want to make him suffer. I promise myself in that moment that I won’t make him suffer.(spoiler alert, I failed)
Coffee brown eyes are searching mine in panic for an answer, one I’m genuinely excited to provide “yes, of course, yes” squeezing his palms to warm them up. “why were you scared? Did you think I would say no?
Red, the rag that sat on the dashboard of the cab back home set up by the red devil himself, cupid. a child’s accident saw to it that only half of the back seat was dry to sit on. Which was just enough space to cozy into.
Red, warm was the gaze he held when he decided to kiss me. I don’t know for how long he stared at me before he finally moved in to meet my lips.
Red: the flowers sprinkled over my blue diary where I write that day, that I was going to be his forever.
… Forever lasted all of four years. Four years that experienced the sorrows of a lifetime and the joys of three. We both thought, if our love could survive all of this, then it could survive anything. We were wrong.
A Letter From The Past
I need you baby, like the desert needs rain. When I wake up each day, I need your kind words to get my day started. If something good happens, I need you to share my excitement and joy.
I miss you terribly. Your smile, your eyes, your hands, your mischievous laugh: everything that makes you Mine. Whether or not these nagging feelings tell me I don’t yet have full ownership. I want to show you how it feels to be loved, every day. I want you to wake up each morning thanking God that you are loved by me. I want you to go to sleep at night without the slightest doubt in your mind that I am yours completely. I want to bring light to your eyes and laughter to your lips. I want to share life with you, Onye. I want to wait out the end of the world with you at my side. I want to protect you from pain when I can and hold your hand when I can’t. I want to remind you what happiness feels like. Because you deserve to be happy; After all you’ve been through, you deserve to feel joy and peace and satisfaction. My sweet baby love, you’re the sweetest kindest most thoughtful man ever. You’re all I ever wanted and more.
So even if we’re not technically together, Happy monthliversary of the day you chose me and asked me to be yours.
Remember that our love is the kind that can survive any tests, even this horrible distance. Love will always win. Nothing will separate us, not doubts or fears or distance or mistakes.
I love you KJ, forever and always
Your Romy.
The Break Up
It’s hard to accept that it wasn’t true love, because true love is supposed to last a lifetime.
It’s hard to accept that you have made a mistake when you were so absolutely sure.
It’s hard because I’ve lost my best friend and for the first time in forever, I feel all alone.
It’s hard to accept that love isn’t enough. Because if it was, we’d be together.
It hurts especially because you aren’t a horrible person. but the most wonderful human being.
It hurts because I’ve loved you all my adult life and so I don’t know how to not love you. I don’t yet know how to picture a future where you don’t belong.
It hurts terribly because I still love you.
I feel like a failure. Like I failed in life. Failed woefully where others succeeded with so much ease.
After A while
It’s been a year.
I should stop hurting. I should let go.
It could have been 10 years.
Time means nothing.
Being in love with you made it easy to believe in God.
How else could I explain the existence of such beauty, such purity.
Losing you made it impossible to not believe in God.
How else could I survive the gravity of such pain, such loss.
It was supposed to be me and you against the world, so yes I’m still torn up and apart that you don’t want this anymore. But I can’t hate you for that. You gave all that you could until you burned out.
So it’s okay really, if you can’t handle this, if you’re not strong enough. I love you. That’s as true today as it was two years ago when you held me in your arms and promised forever. In a way, I’d wait for you, because I don’t know how not to.
People grow and they change, I’ve learned. Sometimes as much as we want things to remain the same, we have no control. but change isn’t always bad, we have to embrace it.
Grief in its rawest form is love. It is all the love you want to give, but cannot. This love is trapped in memories, they gather to form a lump in your throat and a tightening in your tummy. They fill up what once was a beating heart. Grief is just love- with no place to go.
And Now…
I miss you
I’m missing you, yet I’m smiling.
It’s a bright beautiful morning
No nightmares I need comfort from
No anxieties only your voice can calm.
I don’t need you, I just miss you.
I just miss you and it doesn’t hurt.
I miss your chicken stew,
that’s what home and happiness smells like.
I miss your plantain and eggs,
boiled in a pot of sweet white rice.
It’s a bright and beautiful morning,
I miss your chicken stew
That’s it. I’m fine.
I don’t need you, I just miss you.
-Anna
