I was a slim, cryptic boy,
Perceived by some as a beautiful toy—
Soft of heart and easy to catch,
While others branded me a silhouetted bitch.
The room I occupied had no switch;
Many observed, then turned away,
Terrified of what lived in my breakaway,
Watching me like a sick "pray-away."
The Durban heat was a heavy, damp hand,Pressing the salt into the skin of the land.No ocean breeze reached that airless room,Just the scent of the coast and the oncoming doom.We were slick with the sweat of a subtropical night,Two burning stars in a humid, neon light.
In the crooked corner, I crawled through the dark,
Until a mysterious light ignited a spark.
The black, blasting figure held me tight,
A contested contest in the dead of night.
Up, down, mid-air—tossed and spun,
Banged hard against the floor when they were done.
The struggle I gave took on a life of its own,
Tangled in vines, weighted like stone.
Then a brown-skinned man greeted me—could it be?
Was he the one to finally set me free?
He smelled of the Berea—of spice and the sea,A heady collision of who he wanted me to be.While the Golden Mile pulsed with a distant beat,I was trapped in the vacuum of his summer heat.
What started as a lifeline in a vulgar room,
Became a war of heated love and bedroom gloom.
One month of vacation, starvation, isolation,
Left me broken and bruised in our love’s creation.
He was the man I pleaded for, the one I sought,
But his "sorry" was a cycle, sold and bought.
I never left—how could I leave?
I’d drift like a leaf, then back to his sleeve.
Hot, messy, sexy—a colossal collision,
I was misunderstood, lost in his vision.
In the absence of day, his scent would linger;
He twisted my soul around his finger.
His words were a grip, a trigger, a snare;
I was a slave to the manhood he laid bare.
It was a wrestling match for his peace and his heart;
I refused to give up, or let us drift apart.
No matter the volcano, I stayed for the truce,
Praying for stasis, for an end to the abuse.
The climax arrived on the seventh night,
He told me to leave, to stay out of sight.
I asked for reprieve, but he pushed me away,
Forlorn in the shadows where we used to play.
I covered myself as I lay by his side;
The message was clear, with nowhere to hide.
I should have stayed, but my choice was made,
Waiting for three words to make the pain fade.
He didn't speak. I left in a daze,
I stalled the car as the Berea went grey,The Indian Ocean felt a lifetime away. Awaiting a text through a tear-filled haze,
I searched the sun for a sign,
Hoping for a moment to make him mine.
Then the blue tick... the bricks began to fall.
The humidity broke with a sudden, sharp rain,But no tropical storm could wash out the stain. The dam finally broke; I surrendered it all.
He called when the heart was already undone,
With vulgar messages and the setting sun.
I miss him, and perhaps he loves me now,
But I am gone, released from the vow.
The future is blurred in the distance we climb,
Searching for love in the silence of time.
Maybe if he changed the hurting ways,
We could be paired in time with heart and hand in mine.
