(After Sarah kay- The type)
A friend asked me to write something about abusive relationships/domestic abuse. She asked me to write on the lines- “Just because you love them, doesn’t mean you would let them hit you!” So that she could send it to another friend of hers, to make her understand something. My first thought went to ‘The Type’, a poem from Sarah Kay (my inspiration), and this is what I wrote.
Dear purple eyes, auburn hair, bony fingers, tiny voice.
your mouth popsicle stained, pouting like a possum, did you see there were crocodiles on your way home?
with teeth sharp, mouth wide open, gasping, inaudible breaths, waiting for you on the sidewalk, on the train station, on the doorstep, on the park bench, on your bed?
Sweetness is what we live for, we, human beings, fragile beings, as if we were nothing but sugar-coated metaphors, poetic devices and words.
But even sugar scratches the throat from the inside if you don’t mix it well.
So when the hands appear, near your waist, against your lips, searching your heart, playing with your hair, do not flinch,
but when the hands appear, near your hips, against your cheeks, searching your neck, gripping your voice, run!
And when the hands appear, near your spine, against your will, searching your patience, groping your heart, forgive yourself and strike back.
Do you know what it’s like, living in a home where the walls are foreign?
Do you know what it’s like, to eat your home-baked cookies, and taste nothing?
Do you know what it’s like, to get hugged by someone so tightly, that no air gets left in your lungs?
You know what it’s like, don’t you?
Do you know what it’s like to be loved? – Don’t tell me.
The walls you built were not meant to be broken, but someone broke it anyway,
Weren’t they supposed to climb on it, though?
The lips you are chewing right now were not meant to be red, but someone brought the blush anyway,
weren’t they supposed to kiss them, though?
The ring on your finger was not meant to be so heavy, but someone placed it anyway,
weren’t they supposed to give you wings, though?
Don’t say a thing- ask yourself.
To love, and to be loved- there is great freedom in it.
But a broken bottle and glasses of wine, heaven for 4 days and hell for 3, I don’t understand what love could be so intermittent.
There are no crocodiles on the sidewalks, but there is one in your home, there is one in your arms,
My darling! What has happened?
You were top equal of my every love poem.
when did you start waking up with black eyes and call it love bites?
when did you start confusing claws for fingers?
when did you start stuttering? you were the one who used to sing so sweetly, don’t you remember?
Dear purple eyes, auburn hair, bony fingers, tiny voice,
grab your pencils, grab your heart, grab your courage, grab your voice,
Rise up, up and above, up and there you go, in the air, in the wind,
there is a place that you will love,
and this time, it will love you back,
don’t look down!