love in the midst of chaos

I always find “love” during the most chaotic moments of my life — normally it becomes a constant in an ever-changing reality and when I reach a point where I idolize it too much, I “lose” it. So, one can only imagine how many “right person, wrong time” I came across in my life, so we’re evaluating how to do things differently, so I don’t lose it this time.

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Love during war, love during a famine, love during civil war, love in poverty, love in apartheid, love during a family feud, love has no timing, it just transpires, and one has a choice to either engulf themselves in its calm waves that wash over you and leave you completely undone or to live life and die at any given moment never having felt the warmth of someone else’s skin on your lips during the last days on Earth.

Love transpires, literally. Like the big bang. Unravels me of any worries and fucks me up so well, it makes me melt, makes me feel like a swan in a mystic pond under a waterfall. A place hidden for magic mermaids.

Love comes to me unprepared, and life never stops while it happens, it burns so much to my parallel “single” life, it makes it seem like a completely different time jump.

Love becomes a cushion for me to unravel and undress, all my worries, all my insecurities, my stresses, and I find myself plopped on its affluent fur clouds, engulfed by saliva that’s wrapped itself in what feels like white noise and changes into a lullaby.

Love amidst chaos makes me remember the entire purpose of being a human, to eat fruits and kiss, maybe have my locs brushed with a wide jade comb, have my back kissed until my neck.

The luxury of love amidst chaos is that it makes it seem like life is worth living even though the world around us is falling apart, to be held by the hands of another during an apocalypse makes the pain a little less terrifying, a firm grip on my waist with both hands, feeling the spiked breath on my neck, witnessing a finger twitch and eyebrows furrowed which are signs of life make it seem less alone.

I believe I am a rib, in a sense that I cause fulfillment and void in my lover simultaneously, it’s contradictory is the proof of my multifaceted existence, I am a giver of life, a goddess, a mother, a sister, a destroyer, a terrorist, an angel, a demon.

“I wear straight up, unadulterated, fresh extracted pussy juice on my neck mixed with rose oil, sandalwood, jasmine and vanilla, I apologise in advance for everything you’ll go through because of me” —

an enchantress

I leave prints of my foot in every path that I walk, and like a lioness, I’m protective.

I love to undo an entire masculine’s universe. Tear it all up, and imprint my existence undeniably in his life, the same way he’ll do to me.

And because the love came amidst chaos, our love is amidst war, amidst racial feud, we’ll get to indulge and take our time to undo and undress each layer of consciousness, like a hickey, our existence in each other’s life will be undeniable but still be a mystery. I love being draped in the melody of my lover, and watch his soft fingers and lips softly meddle with mine,

During late nights, he steals me away from my family so I can see him, and we make memories that embed themselves in our skin for weeks,

Memories that burn themselves so deep, it’d take unlearning the English language as a whole to forget about them.