Desire

Relationships are not always of love.

The following piece was written with the notion that we are sometimes lost in love, and when we embrace the truth of our situation we can then begin to truly love ourselves.

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Clarity

Hi beautiful people.

It has been a lovely week, I celebrated my birthday yesterday with my love with the realisation that life’s simple pleasures nourish the soul.

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Latest pieces:

deceit

This piece is derived from the experience of first love.  I wrote this to encompass the notion of disappointment, disgust and betrayal.  Love does that sometimes.

Be kind

Often we take for granted the words we speak, unaware of the harshness or negative influence it may have on another person.  I wrote this after being upset with the burning words of a person who I love.  Always speak kindly.

couragefinal

I wrote this for my sister on her birthday.  Leah turned 22 and is currently living in Australia.

Serenity

When my mind is clouded and I can’t help but dwell upon pain from the past, a simple kiss or touch from my love can wash it all away.

Loved

No explanation needed.

Miriama C.T © 2014

Love & laughter,
Curly Miri
Miriama C.T.

Imzadi

It has been five years since I lay on our bed, wishing for my tears to wash over me and numb the pain felt in the depth of my being; allowing me to sleep forever. You left, with three boxes of your belongings and that stupid television I told you was a waste of space. My heart felt like it had been ripped from my body. Every breath ached with lonesome sharpness and I yearned for you to just return and hold me, even if your arms were of lies and deceit. Every morning, you greeted me with the stench of foul whiskey. Every night, I waited for you to come home, you never did because you were with her.

I remember you once referred to our love as the essence of Imzadi. Bullshit.

The thought of you no longer crosses my mind.  I should be happy about that but then I feel I’m betraying the rare occasions of bliss that we did experience.

The day I moved on from all that was us, I swore that I would not ever let another man make me cry or yearn for comfort that should be rightfully mine.  I lied.

Curly Miri © 2014

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One of my favourite photo’s that my sister took of me at the Auckland Botanic Gardens (maybe 2 years ago). It shows that one can always rise above the pain to breathe in beauty.

Love & laughter,
Curly Miri
(Miriama C.T.)

Eleven

I was only eleven.  His welcoming arms and tender embrace felt so safe.  Going to the beach was our favourite pastime.  We would walk hand in hand along the shore in search of pretty shells and slimy seaweed.  I looked into his eyes in search of kindness and in return his beaming smile made me feel like I was loved.  I guess that’s why I felt special when he would visit me in my bedroom each night.

At first, we would talk for hours then as the evenings grew colder he would lay with me beneath my covers and touch me.   I was taken aback the first time he kissed me, his lips stale with the stench of cigarettes accompanied with the sweet words, “It’s okay, I love you.  I just want to make you feel good.”  I did not hesitate as he made me feel complete.   He wanted more so he started to caress my inner thigh and in between my legs he would lay and the pleasure I felt made me feel like I belonged to him.  He made me promise not to tell anyone, especially our family.  Telling me that if I let anyone know about us that our bond would be broken and no other could ever love me the way he did.  I believed every honeyed word that left his lips.

I yearned for his embrace each night.  No one told me that what he was doing was wrong.  I did not feel that being loved could ever be wrong, even if it was by my own uncle.  The years passed and our relationship continued.  He would bring girlfriends around to family brunch on Sunday.  In my jealousy I would threaten to inform my family, but he said it was to ensure they would never think anything was going on between us.  I believed every saccharine word from his mouth.

I left home to be with him when he moved to another town.  I was overjoyed when I became pregnant and thought he would share in my joy.  No.  This moment of happiness was removed in an instant.  He slapped me across my face and beat me until I could no longer bleed, leaving my baby without a heartbeat.   Didn’t he love me?  Didn’t he want me?  Did I not give myself to this man every night for six years?

Tonight, I shall return to the deep blue of where we once walked hand in hand.  No longer will I collect scattered shells or delight in his shameless paradigm of affection. I will remember the sweetness of being a child, innocent and untainted by a love that has torn the core of my being.

I will be free.

Curly Miri © 2014

*This story is inspired by the many women who have experienced this devastating ordeal within their own family.  Women take care of our girls, protect their innocence.

Check out the “Not So Pretty” & “Experiences” category.

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Love & Laughter,
Curly Miri