Love Die Nasty

Kings have thrones, Queens have thrones… but yours is the spongy crimson thing hidden in the cleft of my ribs. Duchess of my kingdom, Essence of my lovelorn…

For the dame who is become my worst habit; this is for you, I want you to share this sentiment and take from it what you see as belonging to you—because there are little pieces of what I’m about to say that you will see yourself reflected in, and some that you may not, although it really is all for you. For all of you.

I remember when we met. We were many years old and climbing trees of dreams and aspirations, plucking the unripe fruits of desire; we were in our late teen, old and experimenting with many things; we were young and fresh blooded and fantasizing, we were just naive, juvenile, high-minded, full of self and falling in love for the first time: whenever, no matter, we were just kids then as regards maturity. We still are, but when we met your eyes were definitely sparkling; I know because that’s what I remember most about meeting you. I’ll leave the rest unsaid lest the gossip whose ever flapping tongue stick into the wetness of our new found Utopia.

And now, where are we? We’re older and wiser. Me here, you there, and our hearts, somewhere else entirely; in a nice cage we wish no possibility of escape, or the desire for escape would arise. We’re strewn across this West African entity without each other’s shoulder to lean on when tears stream down like crawling things; it’s not easy without you. I look back, with the eyes of my mind, on the photos of the last time we were together for the first time and I wish we could have had it in a way that wasn’t saddled with all our fears and insecurities and not knowing when we’d see each other again. We’re coming up on few months apart and it feels like years already. Still we don’t know when we’ll meet again.

It breaks my heart to think of you struggling there, because I know sometimes you do. I know things get hard and you feel alone. I know this because this is how I feel. And I feel like everything would very easily, very simply become better in a moment, if you could sit in front of me like this flower vase on my window, playing your guitar, and reach out your hand to hold mine as my voice reaches fever pitch… where passion meets emotions until this song in my head sinks into your heart like the great Titanic sunk into the Atlantic. If you could dance to the sizzling tune of ‘Lady In Red’, I know that in my panicked crescendo, that look you give me, the way you sit by me, the way you touch me, would bring me celestial silence. (God! I’m hopelessly dreaming).

I have beautiful sisters with amazing personalities, yet, I’ll be glad if I never had a sister, because you’ll get to be her instead.

You know. We know. We have that special comfort of love, wherein I can tell you, and you can tell me, in the most matter of fact, how to make worst things better and bitter things sweeter. I can be brutal in my opinions and advice and yet that brutality is merciful, loaded with all the affection you’ve ever wanted in this world. You can be indifferent to some things I fancy, but like your snores soothe my eardrum, so does our differences bind us together. I guess that’s how we know we love each other—because we’re not trying to protect each other, we’re trying to help each other be better. We don’t offer each other retreat, there is no asylum; instead, we stand by each other in battle. You believe in me – that makes me push harder. I bet the seed of my investment on you will never cease to sprout new blades of discovery. Until it grows taller, bigger that the tallest of trees. In this jungle of emotions, I hope our love towers above the hurt that lurks in every corner. I hope. I hope we last.

I trust you. I really do trust you. I do not know how we got to this, but I’m sure the path that led us here was never really there – we paved it, with the gravels of hurt, mud of broken hearts, a coal tar of burning desires, and tractors of possibilities. We happened. 

Have I said that I miss you, my dearest? That we don’t talk nearly enough, but that I know when I need you, you will be there to absorb my tears because between us, time and space have become both limitless and meaningless and a million miles is same as the distance of eyes to the nose. And somehow, the distance has made me love you more. It’s made me understand better that what we have—which only a few beautiful hearts are blessed with—is rare and royal, intriguing and impossible. Impossible, not to us, but to those that know not the aroma of love. Hmmm… your fragrance. Sweet aroma!

Now that things are difficult for me, it’s knowing you are there for me, even in your absence, that keeps my dreams alive and the fire burning. Even though we’re so far apart, we’ve managed to synchronize our smiles, sighs and sorrows. All I want is for you to materialize by my side or I by yours. I want to be able to hold you and I want to cry the way I know I can only cry with you; for crying makes me no less a man, but more of a human with a heart that still feels the hurt of another, strong enough to pull tears off its deep well. I want to hold your hands so tight until we can’t unlock it, and then I want to fall back in laughter because we are wishing the impossible. My Geisha, together there will be laughter. We will be laughter. 

Together we’re double. We’re double in strength. We’re double in love. We’re double in sadness. We’re double in happiness. We’re double in the lust for success. We’re double in all the neurotic nuances that combine to make us who we are. We’re double in our insanity. We’re doubly tall and doubly lepacious. 

May be, someday, we shall be double in fatness. You’re many double things to me, sister and lover, double. Friend and partner, double… You make me double me, and more: you inflate me in such a way that makes anything possible. We’re doubly equipped to deal with all the nasty things that life throws our way. 

You double a part of my wholeness. You double my heart. You double my smiles. Heck! Recently, you doubled my pain.

Every day, from a distance, I am holding your hand even if you can’t feel it. I hope we will be together soon. 

I love you is hardly enough, but I’ll say it anyway: ‘I love you’. And I want to be with you all my life. But all of that is gone…the storm, it came…and washed our wishes down the drain. No trace of us. Not even a single picture frame survived the breakup.

Again…Kings have thrones, Queens have thrones… but kingdoms rise and fall. We were born in fantasy…and ascended the throne with ecstasy. We dreamt of an everlasting dynasty. Die nasty… we did. Alas, shit happened. 


Author avatar
Jaachi Anyatonwu
Jaachi Anyatonwu is a poet from Nigeria. His writings are inspired by everyday happenings and observations with writings that cut across many genres like poetry, prose, essays and music. Jaachi loves to create rich content; creative writing tips, authorship tips, humorous stories and micro poems. He's the author of Sweetness, a collection of poems.

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