womanhood

a work in progress

Category: The Sexes (Page 1 of 15)

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Men Vs. Men

I’m coming to the realisation.
That I don’t have room for men, who feel uncomfortable, threatened or uneasy about whom I am.

I want to be around men who champion women.
Men who admire women who are ahead of them in the game.
Men whose eyes light up when they see a successful woman.

Those are the kind of men I’m okay to have in my life.

The rest are just bad vibes.

X
K

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Untitled

She told me she didn’t understand why she felt like that.
In love with one and wanting another.
His skin.
His fingers.
The way they swept upon her collarbone.
And his laugh.

She was so so so happy.
So content.

But this guy.
Had her.
Without having her at all.

X
K

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Waiting

I want you to pin me down.
Hold me down.
Laugh at every joke of mine the way you do.
I want you to come on over and surprise me.
Make the move.
The first move.

I want you to delight me.
Find the courage it takes.
To tumble and confused the hell out of things.

I want you to find me.

Right here.

K

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Enamoured

You said it to me yesterday.
With subtlety.
But often the things you ask with subtlety are the ones that strike the realest.

Does your shine bother him?

Not the money.
Not the levels.

Just the magnificence of who you are.

And you know what.
I don’t know.
I don’t know for sure.

But I do know.
That another man was enamoured.

X
K

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He Won

Last night you were in my room.
Now my bedsheets smell like you.
Your skin.
Next to mine.
Flushed.
You face, staring into mine.

As we lie.
Side by side.
Curious.

Known and unknown.

Tender.
Delights.

X
K

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Strawberry Nights

Come on over.
Baby come on over.
Give me 30 better yet,
Give me 60.

Make it us.
Just for a night.
We can do this.
Run with it.
A little wild.
A little sane.

On this strawberry night.

Let’s do this babe.

X
K

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Cold

I caught up with a friend recently.
We are talking over lunch and coffees.

She was telling me about decades of love.
She told me of stretching out her arms.
Of seeking love from her man.
Of seeking touch in the night.

And she told me of the response.
Negative.
Nada.
Nill.

“It was like a slap in the face, Kish,” she told me.

Tears welled in my eyes.
And I realised.

I come from a community which shuns physical touch between men and women in public and maybe even doesn’t relish it in private either.
I’m extremely private, I don’t even feel comfortable holding hands with V in a street where no one knows us.
I’m wary of physical touch, especially if I’m stressed.
I don’t reach forward and hold his hand.
I don’t lean on him the way he does me.

I can’t explain it.

And when she said that.

I thought of Aru’s childhood.
How I lift him, cuddle him, love him, adore him.
I snuggle into him.
I can do this anywhere.
Nose to nose.
Cheek to cheek.
He knows.
It in his bones.
That his Maa adores him.
I tickle his toes and plant kisses on his forehead.
I rub his tummy.
I sneak under his t-shirt to rub his back.
I am a physical mum.
I get the most satisfaction from his touch.

And I realise.
Vivek probably had that kind of love from his mum.
This regardless abandon of physical love.
Skin to skin.

Touch.

And here I was.
Loving him.
Yet rejecting him.

And I cry now.

Because I’m trying.
But I will never make up for the million times I might have rejected him.
Made him feel unloved.

Because my finger tips failed him.
My cheeks failed his love.
My arms failed his warmth.
My language didn’t recognise his.

And I try now.
More than ever.

To undo a stigma of touch.
To undo lessons learnt.

To love.
With reckless abandon.

As a child, innocent to norms, rules and expectations.

X
K

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Dear Aru (early May, 2017)

Hey Poochie,
I don’t know where the mind goes.
How to tame it.
Whether it should be tamed or understood.

But for you.
I try to be good.
Even if my mind is pulling me elsewhere.

But what is good?
Who defines and decides that?

One day, your eyebrows might raise.
As your start to unravel your maa.
As you start to know the world is round and
People do things differently to good.

And I guess.
I want to be good for you.
So you know it’s possible.
But I’m learning now.

That maybe it’s not.
Not all the time, for everything anyway.

So I guess.
If I can be accepting of you.
Then perhaps I’ve taught you a thing or two.
About what I need for us when it comes to me.

X
K

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Checked Out

I need you less.
Want you less.
With every step that I take further away from you.

With every check in, every boarding pass.
Every time I move an hour forward in time.
You are less to me.

As if a figment of time.
That perhaps never really happened.
Perhaps all those things I never really said.

So.
For now.
Home is where my boys are.

X
K

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From Here On In

From here on in.
I will scratch your name.
Off off everything we are.

I will start anew.
Seperate from you.

Ready for the day.
Ready for each day.

Where you treat me seperate from you.

This is not love you fool.
This is not love.

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