Last night
Last night I was willing
To be with you
Last night I was going
To love you
Last night I was going
To be the one
I was going to be naked
Before your eyes
Pouring my true self in you
But last night I also realised something
As much as I wanted to be with you
You wanted to be somewhere else
And we only had last night
To change everything
To heal and pleasure ourselves
But you didn't come
Last night turned out to be my worst night
And last night could have changed our lives
But you didn't come
I hope you'll remember last night
That was our last night
Last night could have been the best night
Last night
About the Creator
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More stories from Sivuyisiwe Nomathole and writers in Poets and other communities.
Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley7 days ago in Fiction
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