MONTHS by Purity Sowayi.


No, 8.
What are you counting?
Wow, its really been that long.
Wait, make it 12.
What are you counting?
(That killer smile)
I failed that paper.

I loved you like blue. In a primal way. But actions need reactions. You we’re Karma’s gift to me. And you we’re one hell of a gift.

I dont know how to turn this into poetry.

Your hair, your smile,your skin, your hands,your chest, your hugs,your touch…. The way you walk.

I gave myself 9 months to forget you,
I’ve been counting the

You took me home,
I walked under the moon.
You said I was beautiful, I mistook your eyes for hands and mirrors.
I took alot for granted. I was not used to falling all the way to the ground.

The painting was amazing.. I mistook it for a real horizon. It took months to realize I had walked off the edge of the earth. Right into that place they say angels fear to tread. Not into a sunset. So yes, I’ve been counting….months.

I took up painting after that. I have hundreds now, of how the sunset should’ve been. They’re all different, but I wanted you to smile exactly how you smiled the first day we kissed. In each of them I wear blue. Because blue is for dreams, even dreams coming true. Been clutching at straws for months.

The rest of my life, I sculpt. Try to smoothen the cracks. When you’re new to a skill you tend to want to create your own world, and breathe life to your own human beings.

So I wanted a wall to the sky, made of whatever mirrors are made of. And ten thousand to guard it. And I’d sleep inside 1000 years before I was awakened by a kiss.

1000 years have passed 3 times now. In months. I was counting months.

You awakened the demons at 8. So I re-started the countup.
Make it 2.
Still counting months.

I wish I could turn this into poetry.

A month for every kiss I missed looking over my shoulders for demons that did not exist. A month for every some-people-wait-a-lifetime-for-a-moment-like-this moments I took for granted because I was too busy groping behind the horizon.
A month for those walls I build around you…brick by brick. And another for how they closed in on you suffocating you, with me pulling the strings.
A month for pushing you to the edge…letting you fall, letting you down.
A month for letting you go. Boy! did I have my priorities wrong. Choices… Choices… I fought alright, just the wrong battle…

There’s a bullet with my name.

A month for those seeds I planted… oblivious of the fact that its in the nature of a seed to grow…and how they grew into strangling vines that almost choked you. A month for the 7months I cursed at your guardian angel or not¿, or maybe two?
Anyway, one… for the ‘thermos’ I almost threw. And another, for all the ‘thermoses’ I did throw. Some with my eyes, some with my mind. Some, almost with my hand. There was no being a lady about this.
One, for the bile I brewed inside of me. Blaming you for falling after I pushed you, Blaming you for suffocating after I cut off your air.Happiness, I can fit into poetry. But Pain is sharp, and blunt. Even if I turned it into a painting, I can’t be poetic about it. Pain is hard to caption.
So, maybe I did get what was coming to me…but you shouldn’t have been so insensitive to my plight. My biggest crime was loving you.

Image- Art inspired by Warsan Shire’s poetry.

More of Sowayi’s pieces can be found at: