Mrs

MrsI am experimenting a style of prose writing in which a character narrates the whole story to the reader in a personal way, like the reader is a spirit/ghost and the chosen character is the only one that can see them, like a secret best-friend of some sort. I am still working on it, not done yet. Enjoy!

We just spoke, for three hours straight. Tomorrow is ‘the day’, our wedding day, and to say that I am extremely nervous would be to say the least of the emotions that I feel right now. There are probably ten more that I cannot describe with words. See my palms; they are so sweaty.

My friends are having a good time in the room next to this one; I just don’t know if I need to let them know that I am freaking out. I need to use the bathroom so bad too.

Before I leave for the  bathroom, I just want you to know that I am very happy; don’t get me wrong, but just as worried as I am happy, worried that something might go wrong with this contract that I’m about to sign. I’ll tell you about the call I had with my man first, after my bathroom break, and tell you something I’ve never told anyone later.

I’m back. Sit with me on my bed.

About the call, I had never heard him say the words “I love you” so many times in three hours! He kept going on about how happy he was that we were finally getting married, and how lucky he was, and all that. I had never heard him talk so much, so I guess he is nervous too. In-between sentences, he would ask if I was listening, and I would say “yes”. Then he would tell me he loves me and I would reply that I love him even more. There were about ten “I love you”-“I love you even more” pauses before I told him I needed to sleep, and that he needed to sleep too.

There is a problem though. Well, I don’t know if it’s a problem or I’m just being petty. I had never really considered it an issue before now but I can’t get it out of my mind. He hit me a year ago with his belt, I’ll tell you why later, and I’m scared that he might do it again. I had never seen anyone that angry in real life.

He promised it would never repeat itself, I believed him, and since there were no permanent scars on my neck and arms, I didn’t tell anyone. Giving an account and telling someone else my business wasn’t at all necessary.

This is the thing- he has anger issues that I have refused to fully address, and I might be done for. Babe becomes a beast, a raging monster, whenever he’s angry. Oh! I should tell you something else before I forget. I went to an astrologer/psychic out of curiosity. I’m a Leo and he’s a Scorpio, if you would like to know. She said we have several Venus-Chiron-Mars-Pluto connections in our synastry analysis, and because those aspects are hard, we both need to learn to understand each other and we would be fine. He came up as The Emperor reversed/4 of Pentacles,and I came up as the Queen of Pentacles/Strength cards, in the readings.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said “yes”, but I love him. I don’t ever want to get a divorce; the thought of it is so frightening, because I hated it when my parents got a divorce. I don’t know; I don’t know what I’ll do if he ever hits me again.

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Wife Material

He called you “wife material”,
so you began to blush.

No matter what she knows,
and what she becomes,
why is it that what a woman weighs on
anyone ‘s wife material scale
is what she’s worth?

So, he made you his material,
true to his word.
He even prostrated to get you-
paid your expensive bride price in full.
You’re intelligent and beautiful;
you’ve been spent in the university too,
but you have a new name and owner,
who can do whatever he wants to you.

“K’aso e soke!”,
[raise your gown!];
“afi ko maa lo e mole bii aso oke”
[he demands for the sex he paid for].
He even beats you like “aso ofi”,
to tailor you to suit his needs.
Your husband’s insecurities have to come first;
who are you to have any dreams?

He wears you out,
then he wears you out to functions
where worthless wife-materials must be worn,
to be entitled to respect and dignity.
He shows you to his friends
and tells them to get one like you.
Then he takes you home and hangs you;
he’ll respect you at the next event.

I’m not telling you to miss being a Mrs;
I’m telling you to not miss your life
to be a man’s reserved slave- a Mrs.
A single person is a person still;
if the society will not accord you respect
till you get a husband,
whether or not he will abuse you
in ways that are socially acceptable,
accord the society’s lack of respect no respect
and take all the time you need.

People wipe your tears for a while,
and then they let them dry on their own.

Cry Me a River

Cry me a river; 
just don’t let it touch my seat.
I know your tear tastes sour,
although you tell me it is sweet.

Cry me a river,
cry me a river,
I’ve cried a river over you.

Cry me a river,
or you could make it two.
I’d love to swim and play in it
and be free for once from you.

Cry me a river,
cry me a river,
I’ve cried a river over you.

Cry me a river, now;
you need not speak to me.
Sweet, dangerous psychopath,
must I be you to be?

Cry me a river,
cry me a river,
I’ve cried a river over you.

Cry me a river;
let’s drown our selves in it.
You beat me till I bled, you fool,
you crossed your heart you’d quit!

Cry me a river,
cry forever and ever,
I want to feel bigger
and better like you.


💜 “I beat you because I love you so much and when you hurt me or I think you’re about to, I find it hard to control myself” and other shits.
Don’t stay for the children or the anything. Run away (with your children). Throw the whole relationship away.