Thoughts

I failed again last night. Fell into the pits of death and darkness in sin. I knew the moment it happened, knew it was over for me. The light of hope extinguished, the spirit of peace vacated the temple leaving behind only a pile of clay. In the absence of light darkness has crept in and made itself a home in my bones. I wanted to cry, infact after a while for a while its all i could do. I couldn't pray, still can't, in my sin i pieced together the veil of the temple that was torn when Christ died separating myself from his gift of salvation, hiding myself in the garden of eden when God came calling i ate the forbidden fruit.
There is no mercy for me this time because this time i went in knowingly with eyes wide open i took the leap straight down into my personal pit of hell.
The guilt weighs heavy on my chest like a 30tonne truck going nowhere fast choking me up with shame and self loathing.
My help, my circle, the ears at my disposal are "holy" ears that will not understand or forgive my fall from grace when all our interactions are laced with scripture and righteous presentation all of it designed to keep from going down this path. The church, it is only home when you are faking the straight and keeping all else hidden so i could fit right in except my walk was never about seeking comfort in religion but in Christ. The struggle is real.
Like butchers leading sheep to the slaughter you skipped the gospel in your teachings and sermons. All of you in your suits and ties talking about your perfect lives purposefully omitting Romans 3:23 on how we all fall short. Never once teaching confession or repentance like David in Psalm 51 you just want to tell me how God will make my money long. Why aren't you telling people who's hope is gone about his mercies that are made new every day? Traded the truth of the gospel for loud crowds and television slots and having just one more twitter follower is now worth more than a mans soul. Weren't you told to be fishers of the very man you tossing into a sea of despair? And here i was thinking Christ came for the ratchet. Like me.

Petals on the bed that is my Grave

A toast to us.

In our hands champagne glasses, this is after all a celebration.

Keeping eye contact, both anxiously excited about what the rest of the night holds we take the first sip.

The smell of the crimson coloured liquid, a metallic ting, like raw iron and earth. It tastes the way it smells with faint sweetness I wasn't expecting.

Its perfect. I finally understand why vampires are unapologetic. 

He's ordering for me; our starter is "brain", human is best I am told. Its been smoked with mind numbing gas. Goes perfect with the "blood" in our glasses. The main course is the chefs signature dish, spiked "heart" laced with feelings and seasoned with a hint of emotion and my favourite dessert, "souls" baked at low heat and glazed with caramel sauce, served on a plate of illusion. It couldn't be more perfect if Cinderellas' godmother planned it herself.

Fast forward into the night, high on blood, I mean wine. Full on hearty chunks of premium human flesh and organ we are home. His home. I've been here before but tonight is special. We have waited a long time for this, 31 days to be exact. I have lingerie on, got it for this occasion, blades disguised as pieces of silk and lace woven to look like a layer of skin. I have never looked more dangerous-ly desirable. He's looking at me, peels his eyes away for a second to look at the box of condoms beside the bed, or was that a shovel? 

He reaches out to touch me and pierces a large hole in my shoulder, Edward Scissor-hands? His other hand reaches out to stroke my hair and the axe he holds pierces a hole at the base of my skull. With every touch I bleed but I cant think, left my mind on the dinner table and the rest of it still trying to find its way inside of me. The chef lied when he said the illusion wasn't potent because I still believe I am living a fairytale. My skin drenched with liquid that cannot be blood because I had that with my dinner, I reach out to return his touch. Draped in blades I slice him on impact. We are at war. Killing each other with every touch, tearing flesh and breaking each other limb by limb. Its okay though, this is why "soul" remains my favourite dessert. But wait, before we take each others breathe away, let take the shovel beside the bed and dig our graves. 

PS. this is us today. Satisfying our carnal mind at the expense of our souls.

The Black in the Rose

I recently came across an article comparing the womb of a woman to the holy of holies in scripture.
Brief history lesson;Holy of Holies was the innermost and most sacred area of the ancient tabernacle of Moses and temple of Jerusalem. The Holy of Holies was constructed as a perfect cube. It contained only the Ark of the Covenant, the symbol of Israel’s special relationship with God. The Holy of Holies was accessible only to the Israelite high priest. Once a year, on Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement, the high priest was permitted to enter the small, windowless enclosure to burn incense and sprinkle the blood of a sacrificial animal on the mercy seat of the Ark. By doing so, the high priest atoned for his own sins and those of the people.
The comparison;" Just as no one other than the High Priest could enter the Holy of Holies and live, so the so- called “priest” in marriage is the only one blessed to enter a woman’s womb.  If any other man trespasses, it means partial death to his soul and often his body, too."
I could sit here and ask "why didn't anyone tell me this before?" But that would be hypocrisy because truth is i probably heard it a thousand different ways i just didn't stop to listen. Wouldn't if you paid me.
Truth is, (and try not to judge or do, whatever works really) i couldn't be bothered! Couldn't understand what the fuss was about, in fact i hated the fuss. The men, all of them hounding you like dogs on heat just watching and waiting for you to slip. How they'd trip all over themselves trying to come up with the most tired lines just to get the "precious".
Now before you start thinking i hated the fuss so i ignored it and shut it down let me stop you right there, no, it was such a pain i decided to get it over and done with. So i went with the next guy that came along. Easy on the eyes, kissable lips- thats all that mattered, mind so slow i could fool him into believing it was his idea but a player so we could both walk away with just a handshake. (Ps. Do i sound like a man right now? I feel like I do, anyway....) 
Fast forward, lots of alcohol later we are in his room and the guy wants to start talking (a big shout out to brewers around the world) so this has to be over fast. And it is. Painful and messy and uncomfortable and just plain horrid. And im more confused than ever because really? Really? Really? And he asking if i want to go again? No i am not that far gone into the business of misery. Worst minute of my female existance (no hard feelings If you happen to read this, it is my hope that you have gotten better with time) but on the bright side i did walk away with a handshake. On the not so bright side to this day there's nothing that makes me walk away faster and easier than a bad sexual experience.  Maybe we are all damaged.
Years later; the article or the holy of holies, heartbreak and pain, new lessons and knowledge of love and living all under my belt. Knowing life as i know it now, i simply cannot believe anyone who says they have no regrets. Given the opportunity to do it all over again, bet we'd all be standing at different doors. Id like to think so anyway, but then i find im sometimes in denial about how hazardous humans are to themselves.

Closed Book

I've come to appreciate the need to talk it out. When it feels like all is coming down on you keeping it all in is like a time bomb waiting to happen. Talking, feels like exhaling even if you don't get a solution. Just letting it out is like breathing it out. With the right set of ears its all you need, to bring clarity and most days even the much needed sense of serenity.
For some reason ive never had that kind of luxury. I don't know why but for some reason i can never find a listening ear when i need it the most. Sure there's always people around but never the right ones, not when it counts.
And I hear it often, how i should let them in, express myself, kinda hard when they fall off the grid. Its hardly their fault, how will they know when its time? Not like they are psychic.
So i do what i do best, i bury it, deep in my soul and let it rip me apart. I let it tear through me, feel as it gets my blood boiling, errupting my vessels till its organ failure. Till its a miracle I'm still breathing. And when it feels like im drawing in my last breath, when im sure my last words will be my last, then the pipes burst open and its all i can do for what seems like forever. I cry. For the longest time, shaking and screaming but no sound comes out. This must be what death feels like, screaming out from the depth of the darkness that surrounds you but no one can hear you. Reaching out for anyone to pull you back but no one ever does. Its the last straw because when its done i don't know if I'll ever move from here.

Heavy Love

They say love is a beautiful thing.
That the greatest love of all is loving yourself.
To forgive and be forgiven a sign of great character they say.
These people, whoever they are, they talk too much. Telling us everything without really telling us anything.
They skip the part where a broken heart bleeds too hard to love. That sometimes the anger and hatred and the bitterness is what keeps the heart from dying altogether. They don't seem to understand that seeking forgiveness means having to take responsibility when all one wants to be is a victim.
So what kind of love is this that only serves to hurt, to manipulate, to curve a hole from the depth of your soul and rip your heart to shreds? Is this what we queuing up for? The chance to be "loved" with Ts and Cs? From tedious ones like explaining and keeping tabs on your "bae" to the costly ones like riding on the highway to hell in our varying vehicles of fornication, adultery, lust and all manner of personalised perversion. Cant even hear your persons phone ring without grabbing your insecurity blanket. Cant socialise without risking a heart attack everytime smiles are handed out and none in your direction.
If this is love then I'll pass. I can destroy myself all by myself.
"Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy. It does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self seeking, it is not easily angered, keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perserveres. Love never fails." 1 Corinthians 13 : 4-8
Now this, this is Love.
My kind of Love anyway.
"Johnny met Donna and they fell in love but had no idea what love really was."
We all victims of the situation. Idolosing so badly the idea of love we settle for its evil twin- lust and their cousin infatuation. (Oh how we love to be complicated!l) All the while not knowing what it is, this things we yearn for.
Love is what happened on the cross, when the one who IS Love gave his son as ransom for our transgressions. Love is a promise, to have and to hold in good times and in bad till death parts us. It is that which reminds us of Genesis 2:18- it is not good for man to be alone. But most importantly; God IS Love.
Johnny and Donna had no idea what love was because Johnny and Donna had no idea who God IS. You can't claim knowledge of one without the other, and to expect it from one who doesn't know the who IS, is in the words of Da ' Truth; like taking anger management classes from Bruce Banner. Like asking Renee Zellweger to bring back Bridget Jones' face.

Perfect Imperfections.

Perfection.
Different strokes for different folks.
The perfect shade of lipstick, perfect dress, perfect shoes, perfect job, car, clothes, date, the perfect man etc
For one girl the perfect pair of shoes are her converse which another girl feels belong on boys and should only ever be found on female feet when one pretends to work out.
Perfect job, the dream job, different strokes for different folks. For some all things are a science and if they could spend their entire lives learning and growing and discovering the fascinating and mesmerising world that is Science, they would never know a moment unfulfilled while others, just want to rule! Politics.
Personally im a lip gloss kind of girl. Makeup too messy and i cant be bothered to remember to not touch my white blouse after ive touched my smeared face. That's just me. But there's the girl who wouldn't be caught dead without her bag of....well faces. Cat eye, dark eye and whatever else is out there.
The perfect man, then it gets interesting. The checklists going around are enough to send any sane and noble man running. He should be tall and handsome and have a good job and intelligent and strong and protective without being possessive. A little jealous but not insecure ("because jealousy is how you know they care", she said rolling her eyes), charismatic but not a flirt, fun but not the life of the party. He should be God fearing but not a prude, family guy but not too close to his mother (too much pressure), ambitious and driven but still able to make me the centre of his world..... and it goes on and on and on. Like i said, even the most noble of them all is sent running after this. And they must have their own lists these men; cooks like my mama, nurturing, caring, hot, legs as long as a train but modest enough that only i get to see them. Lady in the street, freak in the bed...and we wonder why JLo having a hard year. There's just no winning!
You can't be yourself because half the time you have this deep rooted fear that yourself isn't good enough or strong enough or sexy enough. So you settle for a string of 20s to give u the feeling of a 100 partner talking about all man are the same!
U? Miss i have so many alternatives i can't settle on one because he flawed too deep? You can't even see the guy trying to love you unconditionally because you too busy being some no good mans woman between 8-10pm. And you want to cry out to God to send you a man? Why should he when you can do bad all by yourself? So far gone conforming to the norms of this world you cant see how you killing yourself. Everyday eating away at your own flesh and drinking your own blood you dont see the ghost of a man you have become. And you still wondering why no one stays? the living and the dead can't live under the same roof. Ask Emily Rose.
-Black Rose-

Waiting to Exhale

That one phone call that you had lost hope would ever come and then it does and that hope is restored and fulfilling it doesnt come easy so you're thinking when this is mine i will have such a story to tell my grandchildren.
With that one phone call you plan your entire life, you see how your future begins and unfolds. You have fears yes and insecurities and uncertainties but you shake it all off because this is your moment. You have waited this long so the stars must finally be aligned yes?
So when it doesn't happen, when it turns out to be just another phone call, what gives? How do you take the next step when the next one was supposed to lead to your future and now its leading to the same place you have been for the longest time now?
Emotions are fleeting, lately so is hope. There's a lesson they say, a right of passage, a story that will make them stop to listen in awe.
And then you have to talk about it. And with every phrase it feels a piece of you is given away. It calls for strength but instead it weakens. Smile in the face of adversity they say, dance in the rain they say,...:)

SOS

Flaws. That's all of me. Sometimes it feels like I'm beyond redemption.
I say a prayer every morning and one every night, but all of me is convinced im past forgiveness. And why should I be? I never learn. Every day is the same old routines of the same old sin. Beating myself up because I know better but do I really? I should know better but I don't. I can't.
Its torture being me. Failing every test at every turn and seeing the failure for what it is. Like digging ones on grave. Doing it knowingly.
For a little while I saw the world for what it is, black and white. Now its all grey. Well im living grey.  Its blurred lines, blurred truths. And im,.... lost in it. Sinking in it.
The truth, I need a saviour.
"Who's adequate to save us? How about he who knew no sin."
I knew this saviour once, still do. But I moved,  because he doesnt so I know I did. He gave me peace, who flees from that? Who turns away from that kind of happiness? Me.
I am flawed. To the core. To know me and not know that about me is to not know me at all.
And I must be the best actor there is because everyone sees me and sees the embodiment of strength and knowledge and beauty. The woman I see in the mirror is scared for her soul, lacking the knowledge and wisdom to save her soul and no, there is no beauty there. Not where it matters, not within.
They say u hear the prayers of a sincere heart. SOS, save my soul. If it takes breaking me limb to limb only to build me up again, save my soul.
Save my soul.

When its all said and done....

Sometimes its as simple as being content. With your present, in your circumstance.
For how will you ever appreciate the glory in greatness if you dont see it in the air you breathe? In the clothes on your back? The food on your table? The friends and family loving you and cheering you on?
You mad because you don't get to have a pair of shoes? Tell that to the man who's just praying he had feet to begin with. Sad because you raising your babies alone? Be the best of both worlds for your little one, their love is your reward. Hundreds, thousands, millions of married people can't conceive and they crying out to God everyday just for a minute of a day in the life of you.
There's a fine line between need and greed. At what point does one go from one point to the other? From working to fulfill ones needs to satisfying ones greed? The man who started out trying to provide for his wife and kids, years later with millions and billions in the bank but not a second to be spared for the ones that should matter.
Priorities. Blurred. Who's serving who? We want to believe money serving us but really? If u can't have a moment of sleep trying to find it, who's the slave?
And is it possible to shut it all down and say ive run my race and made it to the finish line? I can go home, hug my kids, kiss my wife and we can just live. Free from it all.
There's always room to make money. Always more money to be made.
Time.....point me to a man who's ever managed to put it on hold.
To be content.
To pick ones fight.
Choose to love. A love that is kind, that is true and pure, patient and enduring.
Choose to hope.
In all things to be faithful, to believe.
Perseverance.
Courage.
Love. Mindlessly, wholeheartedly, hopelessly. Its the greatest of all things.

Single Rose

Singleness. Loneliness. Alone-ness.
Why is everyone running from it?
Why so many songs and books and movies all with the theme; make sure somebody loves you?
It's this hour.
The calm after the days storm.
When you want someone to remind you what's real, what matters.
Someone to talk to, about everything.
About nothing.
Just to talk.
To listen.
We all selling our souls for peanuts to the one who will listen.
We all laying them down by the riverside for the one who will make us laugh.
And we listen to Ed Sheeran and he tells us he thinking out loud about loving us till we 70. Kenny Lattimore promising us all his tomorrows and Toni Braxton putting it all on the line just to be his baby.
Its beautiful.
How can it not be?
Its laughter and conversation.
Companionship.
Random texts and phone calls to share alot of everything and nothing.
Its complimenting each other as well as paying each other compliments.
Its friendship.
Crying and comfort.
Fighting and protection.
Breaking up and making up.
Ultimately, its not being single or lonely or alone.
Like Mali Music says; its no fun alone.

Battle Scars

"What did you do to get him so mad?" For a minute, just one minute, everything in me goes numb. When I start to feel its the tears that come first, in their path bringing to life the pain beneath the bruises. The salt water stings as it flows over my blackened eye, like burning, like cayenne paper on an open wound. I want to stop the tears from falling, keep them from hurting me where it already hurts but all else is numb. I feel nothing but the pain. As they reach my nose I notice then the crimson colored drops on my shirt. My nose is bleeding, or is it my bustee lip? I would know for sure if I could move my arm, to feel my face but something isnt right because it won't move. I can't tell if its numb of broken or which.
I remember now how it happened, not the why, but how is coming back to me. My face, blue and black and split and swollen and bruised all over; the result of a hand! almost as big as my face coming at me at what felt like 200m/s creating a shattering impact that sends the room spinning with me in it.
Someone please stop him.
Anyone.
I need help.
I fell to the ground after that, I remember because im still lying here. The tiles, cold, were a comfort at first landing like an ice pack, for a few seconds anyway, before the first kick landed in my gut. The pain, too real. Spreading through my entire body until I can feel it in my toes. By the time the second, third and fourth come...that's as far as I can remember, its all black after that.
Lying here where he left me. Surrounded by. ...faces. Bruised, battered and broken, tears rolling down my face. And all the faces want to know is what I did to deserve this.
Fast forward to now, sitting on a different floor, far from broken, healed of all bruises. Lets discuss and address; what did I do? I loved him. Even more so, I thought I knew him enough to trust him to never hurt me. I believed in my heart of hearts that love protects even if it means protecting from self. And why shouldn't I? Why shouldn't any one? Why should love be a cautionary tale with tags like, "at owners risk," "approach with caution" or "run after drink number 2"? Why can't we be vulnerable with the ones with the ones who supposedly love us? And the men; when is strength shown in battery? In inflicting such blinding pain on a defenceless woman?
This ones not on me.
This one will never be justified.
And there will never be enough sorrys in the world to make it right.

Near and Dear

We Bembas have a saying; Ukwangala kucila ulupwa. Translation, friendship beats family. I have met so many amazing people on this journey that is my life. All of them my friends once upon a time but now I hold them nearer and dearer than family.
The girl I met in high school who is now like a sister to me. My bestest i call her. We don't talk everyday, don't see each other often, but when we do its like I never left.
The man who became my friend, my uncle and my father. I smile when I think of how he has been there through every phase of my life and still he is there every time I need him.
My person. Few understand this bond. Sometimes even we can't explain it. But from the moment we met on the 29th of January 2007, we are closer than close. Closer than siblings, than spouses, than friends. Theres no love like ours. And here the bemba saying rings true, because now her family is mine and mine hers and there I have learnt about love in family. About happiness and laughter even when the storm is raging outside.
The boy who is now a man who was a friend even before I met him. Hours I spent pouring out my heart and soul to him because he was always there to listen. And when we finally met, it was like we've known each other for years. Not even the cold on that winters day on the beaches of Sunderland was going to dampen our spirits.
My voice of reason, my princess, I believe God himself placed this woman in my life. She has been that much and more. A sister, a friend, a mother, a shrink and a mentor. Not even distance or time can get in the way of that.
His first words to me; "hi, u listen to Lady Antebellum?" We have been inseparable ever since. He inspires me to be better everyday just by watching him grow into the man he's supposed to be. One of those people you dont realise you need until they are there. And now there's no getting rid of each other.
Last but not least (because this is actually going by order of when I met who I met), when he gets married im his best man. And yes I said he and also yes, I just called myself a man but thats us.
Love all of you and more of you.
My friends, my family, my people.

Black Rose

Im back here again.
Scared, angry, sad, defeated and a large sense of being utterly and completely useless.
Is this all there is to it?
Is this the summation of my lifes worth?
Been here so long im starting to believe its the beginning of my eternity.
They say its darkest before dawn.
But what if its just darkness all around for always?
Ive been here.
Feeling the same kind of misery with the same brand of hopelessness and no sign of light anywhere.
Guess thats why its called the circle of life. Same old cycle till you can no longer keep your eyes open.
How am I getting it so wrong that ive been here so long?
What am I doing so wrong and how do I get it right?
My only happy place is the world ive created in my mind. In it my dreams come alive and im significant. But thats all in my head and reality wont let me live there long enough for it to be real.
So now im just defeated.
Hopeless, confused and sad and most days just plain miserable.
I cant wish to be someone else because im too stuck in my own skin.
I cant cry because soon as I start to the anger and confusion take over.
I cant pray because I dont know what to pray for anymore.
And the last thing I want is someone telling me it will get better because im starting to believe my purpose in this life is to be the one everyone looks at to remind themselves that it could be worse.

Crae play

Fear grips you. You longing for a place where there's no gravity. Its your darkest hour. Been a long time coming. Falling down you lost your way; boasting, fakin', violence and all manner of power trips. You met the devil in disguise, told you "if you walk with me I'll give you all the finer things". Now is the drop, you could die tonight just to be free from it all. Its all misconceptions. You think you're a reject, or are you an anomaly? Maybe just a black rose. Was it worth it? Price of life? Time for divine intervention. Remember the sacrifice on the cross. Hang on and hold on and believe- God is enough. Make your confessions Mr. Millionaire and pray the Lord have mercy. Jesus walking on water, you meant to be just like him. Go and tell the world that you know like I know that we are the lucky ones. Round of applause!

All I have

I remember why I pray.
In moments like these when all my emotions and feelings threaten to tear me apart, when I feel like all I can do is scream or else lose my mind, I remember why I pray.
I remember why in a world and life full of so much confusion and doubt and defeat I choose my Jesus to save me everyday.
Its that love.
How constant that love is.
Its knowing I can rise and fall and it will be there regardless, always faithful, always warm, always true.
I remember that regardless of how hard the storm rages on the outside he give me peace. Such inexplicable peace that sometimes I laugh at how impossible it should be.
Its that grace and that power that can only be of God, the strength through Christ, the comfort, the beauty of his majesty.
Its all so amazing because I do not deserve any of it. I am so big a sinner, even in my dreams I sin. And yet, when I pray none of that matters. Because when I am weak he is my strength, when my faith is shaken he is always and forever constant.
In my deepest and darkest moments I remember my God, I remember the gift of his son on the cross, I remember the Holy Spirit that had been poured into me, I stand on his promises and I remember that all things work together for good for those who love the Lord. But most most importantly, I remember to pray.

Walked Away on Bday

He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. So much so that im not enough. He needs a shorter version, a submissive one and a freaky version of me in order to love me completely. He cant find all that in one though, so he has four of us that he loves as if we were one.
It wasn't always like this. There was a time when I alone was all he ever needed. That was when all he knew was the best of me; funny, smart, with no care in the world. Adventurous and supportive, lady in the street and no inhibitions between the sheets. Who wouldn't love such a woman?.
Except im only human and made of more than sunshine and rainbows. That was the trigger. He used to love how I was as sharp as a whip but now it's that im too opinionated, too challenging, too proud. So he found one who would take his words for gospel truth without doubt or question. Because my ambition goes past just dressing up and looking good on his arm he found another to make him look good- publicly. I command and demand respect so he got one more who had laid her self esteem down by the river side. I am flawed but he stuck around and loved me the only way he knows how, with others in tow.
He loves me. He loves me not. Somehow ive always known he never really did. Not when it counted. He loves the version of me he has created for himself. The me that I see myself becoming in the name of compromise.
But does this man even know me? If he did he would know how I cry myself to sleep every night trying to understand how I could have been so wrong. He would know that I know im only still here out of fear of unknowns. The truth is wether he loves me or not is irrelevant because I have not loved him since my last birthday.

Best of Me

She has the kind of beauty that defeats both science and nature, height that justifies the invention of heels and a mind so brilliant its sinful.
You're thinking I can only be describing perfection. Im not. She is afraid of babies. So much so the idea of babysitting is probably the quickest way to trauma village. She is never on time for anything- typical female, will binge on chips or fries depending on what continent you're on and dont even think of taking her to a braai. I could explain but I still need my fingers.
Now you're thinking too much work. Maybe. But she handles it all by herself. She is one of the most determined, most autonomous, most independent person there is. The girl can do bad all by herself.
Strong headed, yes. Pride so bad its retrogressive and honesty so brutal we are looking into protective services.
She's daring and strength embodied, adventure and fun and laughter and intellect. She is that morning coffee, that refreshing glass of orange juice, the happy hour cocktail, the beer with the guys and sometimes even the warm glass of milk to send you to bed.
She is my person. The friend that knows my shadow better than me. The family I love and hate. She is my voice of reason, my biggest fan and the best part of me.

Mars

He is her most beautiful memory. His laugh, the watch on his wrist, the scent of his cologne, the shy smile he wears when she pays him a compliment. She never had him and he may never be hers but no one can claim her memories of him. They are her own.
She will always smile when she recalls how it took him longer than her to get ready to go out because he couldn't make up his mind on what to wear. She will never forget how she felt when in his arms they danced the night away. Or the look of fascination and intrigue in his eyes when he learnt there was layers to her. The gratitude she felt when he didn't stop trying to find a door or even a window to the wall of Jericho she had built around her.
If they ever were, if he were ever hers, she knows they would be beautiful. And easy. Everything with him is easy, even getting angry but more than that was how easy it is to let go of the anger.
But he is not hers. And may never be. The memories are hers. Her feelings are her own. The happiness that won't let her forget, thats also hers.
When its no longer enough she remembers how he is afraid to go to bed with his socks on because he believes he would die in his sleep, how he made her feel beautiful even when her hair was a mess. She remembers the multi purpose ring he wears on his finger and she smiles.
She will take away the best part of him- the memory of him.

He continues to raise me

You think you know pain when you are four and your mama wont get you your favorite toy so you whine about how unfair life is because the neighbours kid has twice as much stuff as you do.
But mamas not the enemy because she sits by your bedside when at five you have the chicken pox and the other moms wont let their kids come over. Every time you wake up panicking and scared she is there to calm you down and tell you she'll always be there.
But see mama lied because one morning you woke up and daddy said she'd watch you from the heavens. At six years old thats either a fairy tale or a joke.
But life goes on and daddy does his best to be mama and papa bear for his two baby girls. Half the time he is second guessing every decision he makes wondering if he is doing right by his cubs. But he stands firm and stays strong because in their eyes he sees the love he once knew with the woman he once had.
Now they're lionesses in a jungle he fought his whole life to protect them from. He knows he has done all he can do for them so all he can do now is pray. So he takes a knee and closes his eyes and asks the God he has come to lean on to keep them safe from a world he has no control over.
They dont always understand. They don't always accept his help. They dont see how much it kills him when he can't stop their hearts from breaking from first loves or old flames or little boys trying to get lucky. They don't see how it cripples him when he cant stop the tears from falling. Or when he can't get them the dream job. Or that dream car with that dream life. They think he is self righteous. That he doesn't listen. They will never understand that underneath it all he is just a man trying to hold on to the love he once knew with the woman he once had. They will never understand that he will never be done raising them.