Poem by Tapiwa Nyirenda, republished from the upcoming issue of ‘Lacuna’.
the weight of it all poured out of my eyes that night; i’d swallowed so much over the 4 years that
my seams had ripped open.
& it all just tumbled out onto my bedroom floor one night in November.
i remember the way the carpet grazed my knees as i struggled to scoop it all up, the bits and pieces i had left.
these were the remnants of myself that had escaped his sticky fingers.
looking in the mirror, i could see so clearly what he’d done.
for so long
i began and ended with him, my edges blurring into his own.
i couldn’t decipher which parts of me were mine & which had been carved in his imitation.
but that night, ties were severed.
the elastic bands that once held us together snapped
& in losing him, i too was left loose.
determined to own my mess,
i couldn’t call for help.
my mother didn’t need to see me scattered across the floor.
she’d spent 19 years building me from scratch
& i’d allowed another to penetrate my borders.
lost in brown eyes and his firm hold
i succumbed to his control.
but his occupation was too violent for my tender disposition
and i refused to be stifled in the name of love,
i understood that two bodies could not live in one.
For more from Lacuna, visit their website at https://www.lacunalit.com
Cover art by Bunmi Agusto | Piece titled ‘Multiple Consciousness’
