I refuse to make love to the hands that twist my wrists
Hands that declares that love insists
To justify itself with fists
The same love that covers my face with mucous spits…
As I recapture how your fingers created sensual sexual traces
Allowing you to make love to my special sacred places
Funny how we moved from sexual to face trashing stages
And after such tragedy you still insist on making love faces
And then you vow that you love me on those bases…
So in sweet bitter thought
as I reflect
On how your gentle touch also had a concurrent negative impact
To my confidence because you’re soft hands had a facially impairing effect
Inducing the reality that how we met has become the day I live to regret
I fear the smile that once left me amused
The touch that never made my body refuse
So I guess that gave you power,
power that you so rottenly misuse
By constantly leaving me
economically, emotionally, mentally, physically and sexually abused
Am amazed by how you think your tired apologies will reimburse
My pride, my love, my smile and
my beauty that you repetitively curse
So I repeat that I refuse
To be abused.
by Kopano Sibeko
About the author
Kopano is a young South African, feminist, activist and writer. She is also a daughter, sister and lover of life.
She studied and completed National Diploma in Journalism at Tshwane University of Technology (TUT).
Interned at Alex Pioneer and Community Media for Development Productions (CMFD).
Have previous wrote for Forum for the Empowerment of Women (FEW) and GenderLinks.
Currently volunteering for Inkanyiso as a reporter/ journalist focusing mainly on lesbian youth affairs and women’s lives in Alexandra and surrounding areas of Johannesburg.