Naledi Yaziyo - Decaying

You still cling to my skin.
Heavy as an old coat. Heavy as a teenage secret.
I do not want to be part of your conspiracy.

So I start my day with a poem.
I make sure that nothing rhymes with your name.
No expression you were likely to say.
The theme should make no reference to the last of our arguments, lest I re-live again what I wish to have never heard.

But truth be told, this has not helped me much.
I recite you all day because you exist in the silences between the words.
The silences metaphors fail to disguise.

Even the greatest poets cannot write you out of my mind.

I am existing in two skins; yours and mine.
And occasionally, I whisper to myself; to the decaying space in between my skins.

Naledi Yaziyo

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