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Showing posts from 2013


Eve devoured the apple; inelegantly chomping her way through stems, pips and core, juice dripping at the corners of her mouth.
She winced as the sour notes of the Granny Smith hit her, wriggling her nose, closing her eyes.
Hunger abated, she stood in the middle of the unfurnished apartment in the City looking at the shambles spread before her wondering how she got there. It was so far removed from the middle class suburban home she shared with Judas for more than 5 years.
She felt like a stranger amidst the frenzy; finding the buzz of the city too much.
"What was I thinking?"
Her bare feet felt good against the old hardwood floorboards. She wrinkled her toes into tiny grooves and it resurfaced covered in dust.
Mr Gabriel, her agent, had been very persuasive: "It's going to take lots of time and elbow grease to knock the old dame into shape," he said showing her around the apartment.
"Luckily you signed for the full 6 months," he smiled.

Dear James

An air of desolation turned the world to grey. From inside her car, Sarah sat in silence not ready to venture out.
"Coward!" she berated herself.
It was a year since she was robbed of him, and it took her a year to get this far. She had made it to the foot of the hill before; then to the edge of the cemetery from where she could make out the tops of the tombstones. And on one particularly sunny and brave day, she made it all the way to the gate, peered inside; and with a faltering heart, drove away never having set foot outside her car.

Driving to to the parking lot on the 1st anniversary of his death, wasn't easy.  It was dismal out, almost as dark and dreary as the place where her heart used to beat. The tears welled up and she was no longer able to muster up numb. The scene before her became blurrier still, and she was glad for the tears as it faded out the concrete signs of death standing tall among grass and trees.
"Dear God!" she said out loud. "Oh,…


The water hit her squarely on the buttocks.
Snaking down it ran red between her toes; crimson pooling around tiny toes lined up like people in a bank queue.
"Damn bony ankles," Lily cussed as droplets of blood from the tiny nick at her ankle clouded the water at her feet.
She dabbed at the spot with a sponge, enjoying the tingle, wishing the cut went deeper, burnt more.
She stepped out of the stall dripping water and blood onto her clothes left scattered on the floor where she stepped out of it.
The flickering fluorescent lights casting shadows over her caramel skin, hummed gently in the quiet house. She bent down (tendrils clinging to her cheeks, her neck and her shoulders) grabbing a newer, sharper blade out of the bathroom cupboard.
She made her way across the tiled floor, slippery in places, clutching her familiar friend. Shivering she got back into the shower, welcoming the warm spray on cooled skin.
She let the water lull her and she stood swaying; dreaming of vacation…


The city could be unforgiving, especially in Winter when her streets were battered & windswept. Danny cowered then, in alleyways and bus shelters, squeezing into corners, hiding out from her fearsomeness; sucking on tar between coughs.

From his position outside the Car Hire place, he had a great view of the trendy restaurants across the road. This area had recently become In and the regulars were used to bounding over bodies strewn across pavements and doorways. They rarely gave him a sideways glance, but they gladly parted with their change; their fortune weighing heavily on them at the sight of this miserable soul. He milked their discomfort; played on their sympathy; he was a master of deception; his skills honed at  The Little Theatre, UCT in the days when he could pretend that his brilliance as Macbeth was performance art, and not dug out from the depths of his own tragic life.

Danny's eyes darted when he saw the young couple swaying his way, their bodies joined together …


Jack raced through the deserted streets of Cape Town as if the devil was closing in on!
His hands gripped the steering wheel; his knuckles showing white. Hitting the boulevard worried signs flashed warnings at him, but  he sped on hugging the white line as if it was a long lost lover. Hospital Bend held him in a grip, but he refused to gear down, he felt in control behind the wheel of her A5.

Nearly Midnight and the heat felt thick clinging to him, making him boil, plastering his white T-shirt to his sunburnt skin.
"Jeez," he muttered, "it's an inferno in here."
He set the aircon on high, aimed it straight for his face. He caught his hair doing a dance in the mirror and he gave a throaty laugh.
She loved running her hands through his thick black hair, stroking it gently...Till the yanking started, till she became rough and demanding; moving his head down, locking him in, her grip vice-like, her eyes smouldering, her growl primal and fierce.


Raindrops huge and insistent assaulted the dark glass behind him. He stared in his rear view mirror and it looked like the dark was stalking him. He braced himself, shrugged his jacket closer hoping the camouflage might shield him against the enveloping danger. The howling wind cried a tearful lament; warning him to turn around, to veer off the unlit winding road where the only thing standing between him and the edge, were tiny concrete pillars and the warning bells ringing in his head.

"Fuck!" he thought, as a loose stone shot off his wheel and hit his windscreen, "fuck!" He drove on knowing he had trespassed against all reason when he got in the car in the midst of a storm from hell, turned the ignition (which had the sense not to start on the first try) and headed towards Signal Hill.
Why on earth had she suggested they meet there? The area was renowned for pickpockets and dodgy corners where people got up to all kinds of unsavoury business.
He was angry at hi…

Old love

Susan woke, her body wracked by pain, spasms coursing down limbs, aches settling on taunt muscles.
Stupid cholestrol meds!
She was angry at her body for betraying her. She stretched long, her feet  hanging off the edge of the bed, her fingertips hitting cold wood.
Brrr, she shivered, the cold was relentless.
She drew her body back in and nuzzled into him to steal his warmth. She heard his breath, deep and even from where his chin rested on the top of her head; felt his heartbeat  from her favourite spot, her cheek stuck to his chest.
He had a way of smoothing down her hair with strong, rough hands.
"It tickles," he'd say when he drew her in even closer. She was the barnacle, he the whale.

Wrapped together, bodies warm with sleep, she almost forgot the pain.
He stirred, kissed the top of her head: "We've been waking up like this for what? 27 years now?" he teased, and she tilted her head back to find him smiling.
She cupped her hands around his hard ass, dragged nai…


Playing on my mind (thoughts of you) on springs, at dawn, on me, in love.
The light of early morning filters through heavy winter curtains revealing parts of your beautiful face. I snuggle and stretch catching a glimpse of the light as it plays on your lips. I move higher, straining my body warm from sleep, letting the cold in: I want to see your eyes!
I read our story there, a new chapter has begun in our continuing saga, so I relax and smile knowingly, welcoming the new dawn..

I'm late getting to the office! Drove like a car thief to steal time,and I'm still lagging behind. Drat it's gonna be a long day!
Note to self:
 "Avoid lengthy morning showers."
"Slick roads make for dodgy turns."
"Crazy suburban drivers are scarier in wet weather."
"Never take on a taxi!"

It is pouring out; the torrent turns  tar to water. I dash through the parking lot, glad I'm wearing my hair in a ponytail and my long black leather boots that…

The Private Room

Patricia walked into the room like she owned the joint, her paisley silk scarf  tied in a knot, swaying  her hips like Shakira, her long legs muscular, toned and tanned against the navy blue silk mini skirt. She wore red heels, patent leather with 6 inch heels, it made her legs look like it vanished into eternity. She smiled a knowing smile, her gaze held steady, fixed on the door in the back. She didn't see the waiter dodging out of her way, his tray laden with pretty drinks in tall glasses. She didn't  flinch when the pretty young waitress with big boobs on display in a tight white baby-T, bumped into her.
She kept her stride, balancing on her skyscraper heels like a pro.

She stopped short of the door, took a step sideways and glanced at herself in the gilded mirror. Her hair looked good, golden curls hanging softly against her blue shirt, her buttons straining; threatening to pop, her shirt too tight across her chest, revealing red lace. He had bought it for her. He only…


What wouldn't I give, for one more chance...

But you are Judas.
Betrayal hangs thick on you like a monk's cloak; dark and heavy.
Waves of heat and nausea wrack my body. Thinking of you makes me break out in a sweat, my head spins and I lose my appetite faster than a vegan in a McD's.
You are casual in your toxicity, cool in your remorselessness, spitting out words to bruise: "Crazy!"

So I steer clear.
And you remain... living just beneath my skin, in my blood, present with every breath.

What wouldn't I give, for one more chance...

But you are Delilah.
Deception wielded with the skill of a marksman.
Waves of lust and longing consume me, dulling my judgement. It leaves me weak at the knees and weakens my resolve.
You exploit my weaknesses, leaving me wanting.
I am hungry, my appetite for you a deep well; an empty pit: dank, dangerous, deadly.

I am Samson to you; my hair, my sexuality, my faith in us, cut away.
And you remain.
You live where you once lingered... …

The love of food

A mother of a storm was giving the Mother City a beating. Winter raged outside suburban homes bending trees furiously as if on steroids; lifting shingles off roofs, cracking branches and leaving dogs to howl and hide out in fear. Letterboxes swayed precariously in the dark of midnight, unsteady like a drunk heading out of a bar after a heavy night's drinking. Windows were shut tight, the wind making it rattle in it's frames and the rain splattered on glass; racing rivulets changing to streams as the torrent continued unabated for the third day in a row. The sound of thunder roared in the distance, droning like it was coming from the room next door: Boom! Rumble!

Jenny shivered.
She was terrified of storms.
She had walked home through an equally bad storm when she was 9, got disorientated and lost, and wound up spending an eternity in a deserted Wendy House at the back of a bottle store. She'd taken a wrong turn and landed up in the "bad" part of town her mother h…

Mind games

I find the Silence unsettling.
It feels strange; almost like a once favourite jersey that has shrunk in the wash and now doesn't quite fit.

Got used to the D: Disturbance! Drama! Demons! Discord!
And in this D-state:
Operating on automaticDoing in thoughtless burstsActing on impulseFeigning interestHalf-listening, half-hearingEmpty emotions Peace & Quiet: I'm not used to this.
It's unexpected coming on a Monday in the heart of Winter. I don't like Winter, it grates me, the absence of light; the lack of warmth. It leaves me cold, chilled to the bone, iciness settles on my heart and leaves me frigid.  I miss the sun, basking in her glow. This D I love, the "sunshine"vitamin, it feeds every nerve ending, every sense; every feeling is heightened and I am super-alive.

A melancholic tune drifts down quiet passages; a song playing quietly in the background, it's almost softer than a whisper. I have to cock my head to hear it, to draw it in. I find the soft me…


Twisted and turned; my Body willed by my Mind to ache & arch, pop & pulse, at the insistence of my Desire.
I am woman; I am Body and I'm Mind: breast & booty, lips & legs, all in the service of my Soul.
My eyes are dark and clouded when lustful, they draw you in and you can get lost in the story of their desire. But at other times, they tell stories more epic, grander and richer...
Tales spilling over with the chapters of my life.

The flicker of desire will seep from lustful eyes, the cloudiness will lift, and left behind will be all of me.
Choose this, choose love, for lust fades in the presence of it's beauty.

My touch is warm and deliberate when passion flares, it draws you in and envelopes you in a caress that burns hotter than the African sun.
But at other times, my fingers, my palms, my skin, my touch, every part of me is more electrifying. Heat courses through my veins hot like lava and spills over onto you, bringing warmth and comfort.

The stroke of lu…


F  Forever you, ever present, long after you are no longer here.
Making a mockery of miles & moments.
Leaving Time questioning it's impact, Distance questioning it's measure.

Out of sight.
Still on mind.
Still on skin.
Still remaining.
LOOMING LARGE, weaving through the tapestry of my life with threads of gold that outshine all others. I close my eyes, and you're there, present with that wicked smile that could wipe away all of my fears; with that tiny dimple at the corner of your mouth designed to disarm, disrobe and dissolve doubts in a heartbeat.

Lingering in rooms; present in crumpled sheets saturated with the scent of you that clings to my skin on waking. Signs of you in the hand prints on bathroom mirrors that fog up from steamy showers, water from taps & tears pouring down in rivulets on flesh starving for your touch.

Cold descends on my heart, loss grips it like a vice, the ache unbearable, I let the pain wash over me like a wave, taking comfort that I can …


Passageways dimly lit with doors firmly closed on people past, ego's exited and discarded. Doors marked with times and events purposely  forgotten.

The first door seems nonthreatening.  It is marked "The Quiet Room" in the flourish of Monotype Corsiva. The door is painted white; it stands ajar and the light streams gently outward, casting rays on the stained carpet.

I wander in, seeking a quiet mind and a calm soul. The room welcomes me, offers me respite from the other doors which strains against hinges wanting to spill open to let the foul contents out. I close the door to the quiet room and find solace there in the space filled with light. I bathe in the glow, feel it wash over me...

A throaty laugh disturbs my peace, the cacophony coming from further down in the darkness;  he is clearly drunk and his booming voice is a ramming rod, threatening to blow  the heavy door out of it's frame.
"Nancy!" he calls, softly at first, in a playful voice.
Then louder…

On Empty

"What do you want from me?"
He was at his wit's end, at the brink.
"More," I said, "more of everything."
"More of your lips that taste of Marlboro and coffee."  I traced hot fingers firmly over parted lips.
"More glances, deep and promising, holding mine," I said, touching eyelids heavy with emotion.
"More heart,...your mind and soul; mine, with every pulse," my warm hand on chest hard as marble; and just as smooth.
"More time, with you, fleeting seconds, lasting moments; or days spend in yearning when you 're not with me."
I felt his breath warm against my ear, "Yes," he said with a trace of sadness, "take everything."
"Shhhhhhh!" I said, compliance expected, control absolute.
My nails were painted as dark as my intentions; my lips, blood red ... I almost felt sorry for him, he had no idea:
It was time to dance with the devil.
I picked them out, and discarded then at will, my …

the con

did it not matter at all these 5 years?
did it mean nothing to you knowing me? am i just the same as all the others:
drunken flirtations without substance? just breasts & bum,
hit & run? with no need for kindnesses.

how could i have gotten this so wrong? awkward this, my musings, trying to make sense of things: was it all lies?
the sentiments false?
the interest a sham?
am i that foolish? could've sworn there was a connection, if the friendship was fake? why draw it out for so long?

awkward now... not the silence, nor the indifference; but that i have to un-know you, not say hello & how are u; avoid u when u are around.
did this not matter at all?
Bravo, you played me like a true salesman, selling falsehood like you were getting paid.
Sandy trembled as she wrote this down.
Reading it, and re-reading the words, wanting her pain to be obvious, her seething anger to spill over onto the blank white sheet so innocent at first, now covered in regret.
She regretted him...
That he got to see the side of…

Till death


Death does that.
It comes and holds up a mirror, forcing us to confront ourselves.
To question:
Is this who I am meant to be?
Am I leading an authentic life?
Am I going deliberately about my life?

It scares me, Love.
Can one love too much, too deeply?
Can you become so bonded with another that life without them is unbearable?

What folly for the one left behind once death has cast it's mantle.
Heavy stuff, this death, this dying.
I feel weary, shoulders knotted, tears a constant under quivering eyelids. I'm not sure who I am mourning more:
A woman ripped away as if the Angel of Death was in haste?
Or a husband left behind wondering, muttering, unfinished?
Or am I mourning for me?

 For some strange reason,  when reading a novel, I tend to skim over the last page, determined to know the outcome of a story. There's comfort in knowing, I suppose. But not with my own story! Not now, not with this!
I see my love story echoed in that of my in laws. I h…


Butterflies flutter butter soft, ever present in his presence.
Thoughts grip tightly onto images of him, my mind playing them over and over and over again as if on repeat....till my head hurts.
And my heart.

Aching heart throbs wildly; longing to be engulfed.
Eyes light up, pupils dilate... and the rest of my body follows; furiously set to smoulder.

He courses through my veins like a veld fire.
Hot as hell, and twice as punishing.
He weakens my knees... and my morals.
Mr Devil-may-care came and turned me on; turning my world on it's head.

It feels as if  I've been asleep since the dawn of time, not knowing. I think I had been waiting for him all along.

For him, my blood boils, fever spreads to limbs and loin. I tingle at the touch of him, lean into his glow, drawn to him like a moth to a flame...

A sudden draft jolts me from my reverie, someone in the office let the cold in.
"Get it together, Natalie!" I chide myself, "like a damned teenager with raging hormones…

The dance

Source: via The Haute Enchilada Cafe and Gallery on Pinterest

"Dance with me," he said, his voice barely audible above the noise of  Cubanaon a Saturday Night. (

I reached for a familiar hand and he drew me up, my eyes saying yes, my body leaning into his warmth. This felt strange, us on a dance floor after all these years. We danced when we were dating, we dance with our children at parties, we dance when we are alone and feel foolish and frivolous.
 But not like this.

He steered me through the crowded room tightly packed with young people buzzed on spirits; on the weekend; on life. We were out of place here in the crowd of singletons hooking-up, hanging-out and souped-up on the thrill of the chase.

Cubana was pulsing with primitive beats, dancers gyrating with wild abandonment, women owning their sexiness: hips swaying, butts popping, bodies rocking...and cocktails flowing freely enough to allow for questionable c…