THE SAGE'S DeCLASSIFIED SURVIVAL GUIDE (FOR DUDES AND DUDETTES)

Behind The Masks

No longer could she tell
the difference between the
nightmares of her reality
and the fictions of her nightmares
scared, she lived in fear, pain
and regret, when she looked at
the mirror she saw nothing but
a fragmented reflection, a messy
piece of artwork, staring back

see she always believed there was
a love out there for everyone, waiting,
that there was always that picture
perfect person tailor made for her so much that
she assumed he was that: that guy
who met her at that downtown club, offered to
buy her a drink and said "you're pretty good looking for a short chick"
and that was it, her charm and good looks
got her hooked, she was all in
the tiniest bit of details about him always
seemed to turn her on, his lips,
those almond shaped eyes, his voice and
broad shoulders were all her mind
could dwell on

the first years were beautiful, sweet
like a dream come true
one would never want
to awake from, he understood her so much
she could throw her words in the
air like confetti and he would up and drink
them like cognac and enjoy the
the feeling of being tipsy,
ghost her little body in the moonlight
and just enjoy listening to her stories,
he loved her with a passion that burnt hotter
than a thousand suns
she was her heaven on earth
a true marvel at the face of his very eyes
his light in the darkness
and not a thing less... yet

seven years, seven slaps,
seven blows later she had become
nothing but a punching bag, the
scars and bruises were the worst
she had married a monster,
though in the public eyes, the marriage
seemed so perfect and fine, she
hid purple ribs underneath that blouse
and purple flowers that blossomed
over her legs and thighs, her skin was chocolate
brown making all those harder to spot,
on top of that she applied endless
foundations of makeup just to try and hide
those purple blotches
worst time was when she saw death itself
in the eyes, he had beat her up so much she laid
there, blood seeping from her skin, and ribs
fractured, she could barely breathe
beat up only because she wanted to know
where the money was going,
there was no money coming home
she'd once found lipstick stains on her blue shirt
while doing his laundry over the weekend
pleaded to her in-laws about the behaviour
of their son, but it felt as if she was
preaching to a brick wall
they replied "monna ke tshwene o ja ka mobogo a mabedi"
she was crushed, every facet of her personality
was denigrated and shunned,

days passed, weeks and months
the love had turned into hate
and there is no other hatred
more strong than that formed in such a way,
for the bitterness makes it more potent
the love had died, washed away
rolling down the street like a turd in the wind
he no longer saw her the way he
once did, saw no comfort in her words,
could no longer surrender to her caress
or find peace within her eyes, he found
someone new, knew what he did was
foul but still went ahead and did it,
his friends encouraged it, cheered him on
while their advices slowly burned
his life into nothing but deleterious debris without
him even noticing it, see the first time
he hit her there was guilt but the second,
third, fourth and fifth, he took pleasure
in beating his fists into her skin so much
he'd even spit on her half lifeless sculpture
of bones and skin laying there like some
waste or filth

sometimes she'd gaze out the
window, looking at the road that passes by
continuing on to a bend
where it twists out of sight and
wonder what will happen if she just
started walking and never looked back
ran into the horizon and started a new life
with no man,
to just break out, be free from his grip
his silhouette, his mischievous grin
which had over the years turned into
nothing but a brick dungeon
she was broken within, the wounds no
longer hurt, she felt sick at the sight of him,
betrayed, foolish and less beautiful
like some ugly woman in the streets
with nonchalant ease he had crushed
every ounce of the self worth she gleaned

with almost every bone in her body broken,
a battered face, more than
seven bruises, seven scars, and seven
wounds later she decided to pack her
bags and leave, go back home, rub
off the wounds and start her life afresh
the years were already against her,
because age is not kind to women, and she already felt like a roadkill on
a sunny day, but hey
she was ready, left him a note that read
"my dear husband, I do not know what I did
to you to deserve the kind of treatment you gave me, to cause me all this pain for all these years, but when these wounds heal I will seek safety with someone who has never caused me so much pain, a person
who will love me with all that he has and bring me happiness and joy, a person I can love and be loved by, within that envelope on that sitting room counter you'll find the divorce papers, I've already signed and all they need is your signature, goodbye"

more than a hundred regrets, fifty plus
bottles of alcohol downed at the tarven nearby
fifty pounds lost and a face cracked due
to the streams of tears he cried some nights
later, he'd lost everything cause of debts, the
house was gone, the cars were gone
the one woman who truly ever brought
him joy was gone, and he felt like less
than nothing at all

Title by: Mable Mabutho