Becca Blues

#19 | 31 Poems for August 2017

I can never make you love me no matter what I say or do.
Disappointments seem to be the foundation of my progress.
I’m gradually beginning to realise that success is a slow process.
I dislike how you tend to forget about me during some nights when you’re drinking wine.
I gave you honesty and honestly speaking, going back-and-forth with you is exhausting me.
Over the years, our friendship has been tainted by rumours that everyone knows except for us.
There may have been some chemistry between us that we both chose to blatantly ignore.
I wrote many of my poems in Braille for the kind of love I was desperately longing to feel from you.
I’m still falling for you, and my words are revealing so that’s why you’ll know that this poem is about you.
I find it hard walking away from a woman whose arms I have always wanted to run into.
What should I do now with the love that I have always wanted to give to you?
All I’m asking for is you, and I can’t bear the thought of someone else being next to you.
I’m jealous and I know that I will probably be the last one to ever admit it.
I’m a lover without a lover but never loveless, so what am I supposed to do?

Love Is

#18 | 31 Poems for August 2017

Love is not a mystery; it’s every beautiful thing that I ever wanted it to be.
Love is the colour of you, love is beautiful with all its flaws and complexities.
I’ve been enslaved by my own emotions and you were always there to liberate me and provide devotion.
Love is when I still write about you in hopes that one day you’ll read all these words and hopefully find your way back to me.
Love looks like her in the evening after a long day when all she wants is a warm bath and peaceful sleep.
Could I ever be blessed with the chance of having my heart beating inside her chest again?
I still want to read all the love letters her lips and hands are yet to write so effortlessly on my skin.
I’ve cried myself to sleep on days when the world was dancing to the rhythm of my heartbeat.
Love has always taught me that I cannot continue loving you from a distance.
Home is where the heart is and I never for a second wanted you to leave.
You still have my heart beating in rhythms that are foreign to my existence.
Is it better spending all this time apart while admiring each other from a distance?
Love is praying every single night to God and hoping that He sends you back into these loving arms.
Love looks like her in the morning when she wakes up looking all beautiful and carefree – you’d swear she had eight hours of sleep.
I’ve been enslaved by my own emotions and with love I have conquered everything that the world said I would not.
Love is hoping that you find happiness and love is also having you sharing that happiness with me.
Love is not a mystery; it’s every beautiful thing that I ever wanted it to be.

August Reminiscing

#17 | 31 Poems for August 2017

Let me whisper those sweet words that held together the shattering glass you think you’ve become.
I know that through their utterance you will finally feel your heart beating to the rhythm of our love.
I want our long late-night conversations and phone calls to come to life again.
Because I miss hearing your voice on Wednesday afternoons and the joy in your sporadic bursts of laughter.
Sometimes you feel as if you’re running away from the constant pang of unworthiness that your heartbeat has become.
The world has made you feel like an abandoned church, but in my eyes, you’ll always be a cathedral.
I just wish you’d stop running away from the fear of finding something so genuine and just run into my arms.
I want the chance to breathe love down your spine; I want to be with you until the love runs out.
In a world ravaged by cold wars, our love and happiness is what we should be constantly fighting for.
Life will bend and stretch the both of us into painful shapes, but I know that we will eventually be okay.
During cold winter nights and warm summer mornings, I long to have the presence of your body next to me.
I know that we didn’t come this far, to only come this far.

Wednesday Morning

#16 | 31 Poems for August 2017

Have you ever met someone whose smile could make sunflowers grow?
She has an affinity for hip-hop music and any good pair of clean sneakers.
You should hear the sound of her laughter on a warm Wednesday morning.
I swear I’m intrigued and obsessed with the little things about her that the world fails to appreciate.
Her fingers write the most alluring words on the blank pages of my heart.
Constantly reflecting beauty as she speaks, she is simply a paragon of art.
She knows that I’m a hopeless romantic who insists on remaining hopeful.
In the morning, she smells like strong black coffee, cocoa butter and good intentions.
I still want to hold her heart like the lonely autumn trees hold the fragility of clinging leaves.
I think I finally understand it now, I’m a hopeless romantic who insists on remaining hopeful.
I’d love to feel my heart beating to the rhythms that are foreign to my existence when I’m sitting next to her.

Hammanskraal Hues

#15 | 31 Poems for August 2017

Listen, if I’m willing to talk to you, will you listen like you always do?
It has been quite hard for me to acknowledge the fact that we’re through.
Saw a few of your pictures on Instagram and Facebook, I’m glad to see that you’ve finally found someone new.
I wish nothing but love and happiness for the both of you, I really do.
At the end of the day, I’m so glad that I got the chance to have met you.
There’s this girl who has made me realise that maybe I don’t have to die to get to heaven.
Her beautiful cocoa butter skin proves that her complexion is truly a blessing.
It doesn’t matter which book I’m reading; her love is the scripture that my heart believes in.
She is simply a poem with feet, her soul is well-versed in love so eventually I asked her to walk with me.
It has been quite hard for you to acknowledge the fact that we’re through.
You’ve commented on my pictures on Instagram and Facebook, you’re glad to see that I’ve finally found someone new.
I’d tell you more about her and maybe show you what she means to me, but that’s a poem for another day.
I hope the person that you’re currently with has made you believe in the essence of true love again.
Because you deserve something better than lonely nights saturated with pain.
I’m happy for the both us, glad that we’ve managed to find happiness again.
We can’t change what happened in the past, we were teenagers back then.

Whole Again

#14 | 31 Poems for August 2017

All you can hope for is someone who will pray with you, someone who will pray for you.
I’ve got you covered like warm blankets during cold winter nights.
I’ve got you covered and not like those dodgy life insurance policies.
Everything is complicated and my feelings are hardly reciprocated.
But everything is different when it comes to you and what you do.
It’s because of your love I get to see myself from a different view.
So, tell me that I’ll be whole again, tell me that I’ll be yours again.
What we share is beautiful so love, tell me that this time we’ll never end.
Show me who you are again, hold my hand and guide me through the pain.
Love me across beautiful South African cities and never let me go again.
All that I can hope for is someone who will pray with me, someone who will pray for me.
You’ve made me question if all the women I’ve loved before were worthy of my love, time and effort.
Nothing has been the same ever since you came and now you’ve made me question a lot of things lately.

Indigo Blue

#13 | 31 Poems for August 2017

I wrote many of my poems in Braille for the kind of love I was desperately longing to feel.
I’m still catching feelings; my words are revealing and that’s why you’ll know that this poem is about you.
Let me tell you about my version of events while we listen to Emeli Sandé on any given Sunday.
For what it’s worth, I was only trying to make things work, but I got high on love during my hiatus.
I’ve had to learn to love you in silence and as if that wasn’t enough, I’ve had to learn to love you from a distance.
I know you didn’t give me permission to, but I already started talking to God about you.
Maybe in your quiet time at exactly the right time, I could possibly be your one and only valentine.
I think I finally understand it now, I’m a hopeless romantic who insists on remaining hopeful.
Let me tell you about my version of events while we listen to Emeli Sandé on any given Sunday.