Shuttering the glass

this is it,
the stabbed breast
of Romeo,
the bleeding away
of true, genuine love.

It is the lies
of expectant tomorrows’,
the teary flow of melting water
from the polar ice caps,
the warmth of a mother’s love.

It’s that feeling of hurt
when you realise
you are drawing apart,
that unsurely conscious when you pull
your pants down;
and willingly spread your legs apart.

It is the realisation
that your entire castle
stands on pillars of sand.
It’s the mixture of love
And at most loathe.

I want to love,
learn it’s a, b, c’s
but Julz, Emma and Namatsi
Perceive it impossible,
A suicidal phenomenal.

So this is it,
the knife that will stab your back,
the proud hyena in the pack ,
it’s the hound that hawks love.

It’s the emotion,
the fear,
the insecurity of a child
running in the dark.

This is kaffy,
burying the heroes
of love
and keeping scores
of the few who survived love.
©Mwangi Njoroge