Naledi Sibisi

2011 - date

10 notes

a short story

a man just told me that he wants me.
not in person,
not looking me in my eyes convincingly.

behind a glass screen
disguised by his three letter text 
out of the name blue
and a fire started within me.

you want me?

as in strong desire want? or need to possess want?
both the former and latter are inadequate for the
dragon lady.

I am legendary. I am history. I am too intense for this
I boil, I burn and I am the degree of tea after a long day
that caresses
one’s throat. innately.

this is what I tell myself when my mind is populated
with the things you cannot even begin to believe
go through a single human being on a split second basis
so pardon for thinking you may not approach me
at room temperature.

but, outwardly I have packaged myself in a particular sense
and carried myself in a way that may not agree with the idea,
the mere possibility that substance lives inside me
because your society keeps singing the song
that a girl with
a) consciousness of attire
b) detail to make up
c) hair done
d) irrational behaviour

and all those other rules that apply is one with depreciated personality or quality and this is the type of girl to want and the type of girl to notify about the want.

I don’t walk around with downcast eyes
or ones emptied of passion.
I make eye contact even when you are foreign to me
because I want you to understand that I acknowledge you,
I appreciate you,
I am grateful for your existence.

I smile at any given turn
when I am being meshed inside
because it is important that people know
what warmth feels like -
without the need for physical touch.

this is the girl he was addressing.
and he doesn’t know. 

and he’ll never know.

too busy basking in his want.

25 notes



for a long while all i really wanted to do was come apart in the warm of your skin, somewhere in the underworld of flesh. that i was so sure would keep me safe, it would perhaps for a moment stop the wounds becoming black holes that everything about me would get sucked in to, stolen even. but…

1 note

What Hemingway said about King Ezra Pound

“He defends [his friends] when they are attacked, he gets them into magazines and out of jail… . He writes articles about them.  He introduces them to wealthy women [i.e., patrons].  He gets publishers to take their books.  He sits up all night with them when they claim to be dying … and dissuades them from suicide”
studying for an English paper thinking to myself, I hope someone writes this type of way about me someday.