Pistanthrophobia

(Fear of trusting people due to past experiences with relationships gone bad)

There he stands, the man of my dreams, in fika.

Suddenly, I’m overcome by cingulomania.

I step back.

And I breathe.

What’s this? A tear?

This right here, this moment right here,

nothing but a distant dream.

A far cousin,

falling off the branches of my messed up family tree.

Here before me stands the love of my life,

buried many times in my heart,

a funeral held in my head many times.

Never has the words of Beyoncé had so much meaning,

“Rest in peace my one true love…”

Another tear?

As I wipe away te words I’ll never say from my face,

I look at him standing there in fika.

And then, like clockwork,

this thought sprung into my head,

“…he will never know.”

– Opus

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When She Writes

A woman who writes feels too much,

those simple yet target words.

As if fxckboys, broken hearts and regrets weren’t enough.

As if gossip, fake friends and lost friends were never enough.

She thinks she can warn the stars,

about how living in a society so sex driven has left it’s scars.

A writer is essentially a spy.

We spill the secrets of the world from our guts, into that ink and onto that paper.

She thinks she can warn the moon,

about the men flashing cards buying sins on the back seats of cars with tinted rolled up windows.

A writer is essentially a spy.

We’re out here to warn you my brothers,

that beauty comes off with a mere swipe with those N$8 wipes.

A woman who writes feels too much.

A woman who writes sees too much.

A woman who writes says too much.

Dear love,

I am that woman.

– Opus