Would I make half the effort if I knew how it ends?
As we sat by the pool, talking in whispers
Over pan pipe beers, that sing under breath,
Planning our lives, based on one week of love,
That magical ribbon, tying a bow round our bodies
To hold us together in a pleasant prison bond,
Our warm softened torsos pulsing with life,
Soon to turn chilly, when the ribbon breaks down.
It seemed so unbreakable on hot Durban nights,
But on grey London days the mirror turned in
And I learnt that dark lesson
That the heart can be shattered,
So best not to think
What the future may hold
In that moment of heat
When two like hearts can meet.
I my my ex-husband when I was nineteen and backpacking through South Africa. I had never fallen in love before, so I ended up falling hard.
I still have really vivid memories of sitting in the back garden of Tekweni Backpackers Hostel in Durban, drinking beers with him, with our feet dangling in the pool. It felt magical, and it really did look like a cinematic love story – something that could never possibly be broken.
But of course it could break; and it did.
But is it healthy to think about the heartbreak that could follow all those amazing feelings? I seem to have hung onto that pain like a security blanket, preventing me from ever diving into a relationship again. I wish I could forget.