Nasilele Mubyana | + Follow Poet |
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No King At the Throne

I lay there and I listened 
to every sound that came through the night: 
the floorboards creaking, 
the wind blown window blinds beating against the metal window frame, 
the scuttling of rodents in the roof, 
the odd disconcerting sound that I could not identify

I pressed my face into my pillow, 
slowing my breathing, 
whilst the pillowcase soaked up my tears, 
my forehead burning hot. 
“It hurts,” I thought, 
and with that thought another memory of him filled my mind 

and my pillowcase, 
drenched and pressed against my hot face, 
began to feel like a hot wet cloth 

I was thirsty, 
but unmotivated to care for myself 
I had lost all ambitions to live a life worthy 
of being alive 

Once we parted, 
I began living each day, 
as a day to be spent and forgotten, 
nothing had meaning, 
and nothing felt passionate. 

“I will never leave you,” 
were words we had often exchanged; 
yet words we never lived up to 
“I am already gone,” 
were words I had used to leave him, 
and he let go
No promise kept of “I am always here.”
 
I never let another man in 
to what I considered his kingdom 
I was a queen with no king, 
at my throne 
I lay there, 
silently begging him to come back, 
knowing that after all I had done, 
if he were to return it would be, 
at his own will 
and with each passing year, 
I lay there 
and I listened to every sound that came through the night

Copyright © Nasilele Mubyana | Year Posted 2017

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