Category Archives: Taiba AlOtaibi

He Loves Me by Berlin and Taiba AlOtaibi

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He Loves Me

 

He loves me.

I know he loves me.

He told me.

Whispered it to me.

I felt it on my lips, down to my hips, reaching to the tips of my toes.

The way his hand slips against my waist whenever he walks by.

The way his lips curve upwards when he thinks I’m not looking.

A kiss goodbye, a kiss hello, and peppered with every gift he has given me.

 

I feel his eyes on me every morning before he gets ready for work,

Watching me.

Looking through me.

 

He loves me.

 

But…

 

He loves me                                                                          

 

He sees the hesitation in my eyes and wipes it away with excuses and promises and lies.                                

He pulls me close until all I could do is lay my head on his chest and surrender to his heartbeat.                         

Although I have so many things to say they always have to be said another day                                             

 

Because he is there and he feels good and he loves me.

 

He has to love me.

He told me.

Screamed it at me.

He always insisted that he loves me.

He works hard for me.

You don’t know him, you may think you do but you don’t.

You get one part of him,

His little rebellion.

His little escape.

His little drug.

 

I wiped his brow when he was sick,

I knelt by his side when he was crushed and raised him higher when he soared.

I was there from moonrise to sun down.

And yet….

He loves me.                                                                    

Why else would he keep coming back?                           

There will always be gaps in his life only I could fill.    

I handle the mess she couldn’t deal with.                       

I welcome the “him” she would never get to meet         

I fix his heartbreaks by filling the cracks with pieces of my own.                                                                                    

 

He was mine first!                                                            

My hands had held him for a longer time…                         

My lips tasted his before she even existed.                     

We had a whole life together.                                         

A whole story.                                                                 

 

And she might have invaded a few chapters but I was there in the beginning and he promised.

He swore I would be there ‘til the end because he loves me.              

 

No, he loves me.

But…you had his happiness.

Please don’t take him away…

He saved me.

No, you don’t understand, you may love him but he saved me!

He is my rock.

He is my escape.

He is my drug.

I would have been swept under the currents.

I would have been a tiger caged but he saved me and I will not let him go!

Please forget him. Please leave him to me. Please. Please. Please! Please stop.

 

You are breaking me.

 

With every moment you share with him you are ripping me apart.

 

I saw those little glances at his phone.

He inhales sharply at every ring.

His fingers flex as he looks at it. Stares at it. Then glances back at me.

That’s when I first knew. And that’s how I have always known.

A tone, a gasp, a look and he was gone.

 

He loves me but I do not have the right to the emotions that loving him comes with.                                             

 

Security? Jealousy? Seriously?                                       

 

While I cry myself to sleep at night, he watches her dream in his arms.                                                           

While I wake up longing for him, they share breakfast in bed.                                                                               

While my days are spent wishing for nights, he is holding her hands watching sunrises and sunsets.                                                                            

 

I can never confront or question or demand.                   

This is what I signed up for.                                             

Why should I even ask when I know the answer will always be “her”?                                                              

 

She has the “I do”.                                                          

She has his name.                                                            

She has his birthdays and Christmases and New Year’s eves and all the days in between.                                     

 

All I have are random nights                                           

All I have is this room and the promise that these four   walls will be broken down eventually. 

                                     

He claims to love me.

With every breath he assures me.

But then…

He hides his phone, he leans over it when he checks it.

He always checks it.

I see your number, only digits, no name, no picture, no illicit sign of recognition.

Why? I wondered.

Until I called you.

Yes.

I called you.

I heard your breathless voice,

I could feel your excitement, your stark energy ripped through me,

Your voice,

Your unmistakable tenor voice.

That’s when I knew he was forever gone,

He would never be mine,

I could never be enough for him though I have tried,

Oh god how I have tried!

Still, he gives me his sweet words that mimics his sweet smile

Before he slips away to you.

 

He called me the other night.                                            

It had been a while since we actually spoke                    

I was overcome by excitement!                                       

How are you my love?                                                     

I miss you!                                                                       

When will I see you again?                                             

 

Silence was his reply before the line was cut.                

 

I wanted to call back to see what was wrong.                 

I almost forgot calling him was a luxury I was never provided with.                                                                  

I just waited for another call that never came.                

 

I don’t know when exactly I have allowed myself to be someone I used to pity and hate at the same time.          

Someone who only comes alive at the sight of a certain name flashing on the phone and dies at the sound of a    dead tone.                                                                        

 

I start to wonder which I do better…                               

Live for him or die for him…                                           

I’ve become such an expert at both that I can’t even tell which hurts less anymore.                                                                                                         

 

He loves me…

I know he does.

I love him too.

I will crawl on my hands and knees, kiss your feet and worship you just to have him.

Would.

I would have crawled.

He loves me; however…

There is always a however. Always a reason, always an excuse.

Long cold nights. Long empty days.

I am stuck

No more.

I am stuck no more.

I love him. I will always love him but his love for me is no longer enough.

I have to get up. Like the rising sun I have to pull forward.

I am my own.

 

He loves me                                                                        

He will fight for us.                                                         

He will leave her.                                                             

We’ll be happy.                                                                

That is our dream.                                                           

We spend a lot of time dreaming…  it’s one of the things we do great in bed.                                                

And although the fantasy of it all is beautiful and romantic and perfect…                                                   

I spend more of my time awake.                                      

And the reality I wake up to is not as pretty.                  

In reality, they are one…they even have papers to prove it.                                                                           

I’m just the outsider who wants in.                                  

In reality, I am just the bastard who is tearing a family apart.                                                                                

Throwing away a future for a past that should have been buried the moment they exchanged vows.             

In reality, I’m alone in fighting a battle I could never win.                                                                                        

 

I am done settling for so much less than I deserve!         

This dream will never come true!                                       

I am awake.                                                                      

I am hurt                                                                          

But I am awake.                                                                     

 

HE LOVES ME

But never more than half as he could,

Because the other half will always belong to someone else.

Yes, he loves me

But I am gone.

 

 

-Berlin & Taiba

Noah by Taiba Al-Otaibi

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In order to understand this, you must first learn who Noah really is.

I wear a red bandana, play a cool pianna In a honky-tonk, down in Mexico I wear a purple sash, and a black mustache In a honky-tonk, down in Mexico (The Coasters – Down in Mexico)

First born unicorn Hard core, soft porn Dreaming of Californication (Red Hot Chili Peppers – Californication)

(The Heavy – Short Change Hero)

And they’re thinking: A beautiful face And a wicked way And I’m paying for her Beautiful face every day All that work

Over so much time If I think too hard I might lose my mind (The Black Keys – Next Girl)

‘Cause she’s a super freak, super freaky. (Rick James – Superfreak) Her body singing ‘Let me entertain you’ (Robbie Williams – Let Me Entertain You)

Ain’t nothin’ wrong with this chemistry Ain’t nothin’ wrong with this blasphemy (The Heavy – What Makes A Good Man)

With the lights out, it’s less dangerous So here we are now, entertain us (Nirvana – Smells like Teen Spirit)

Now she’s naked, nothing but an animal But can she fake it, for just one more show? (Smashing Pumpkins – Bullet with Butterfly Wings)

‘Every demon wants his pound of flesh But I like to keep some things to myself I like to keep my issues drawn It’s always darkest before the dawn.

So she…shakes it out, shakes it out, shakes it out, shakes it out.’ (Florence + Machines – Shake it Out) Waitin’, watchin’ the clock, it’s four o’clock, it’s got to stop. (Pearl Jam – Better Man)

Don’t call her daughter, not fit to be. The picture kept will remind me. Don’t call her daughter, Don’t call her…

The shades go down The shades go down (Pearl Jam – Daughter)

And I’m stuck (The Heavy – Stuck)

This ain’t no place for no hero

This ain’t no place for no better man

And ‘doin’ things just to please her crowd’

(The Heavy – Short Change Hero)

Smoke by Taiba AlOtaibi

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I was at my grandmother’s house on that sun bleached, washed-out day. It was the day that the women were to wear their black abayas and file into her house in majestic order. They kissed my loved ones and gave blank condolences with such robotic precision, then sat down and watched the tick-tock man tick with their vacant heads and twiddled fingers. Their faces were sallow and lacked make-up, their heads bowed down in depression; it was a shame that I could read their Gucci-filled minds and their Prada obsessed fingers. The smoke from the bokhoor wafted through them, enveloping them in a sleepy, musky haze. Slipping through their noses, it fills their impassive lungs that breath oh so easily. Each of these black creatures tries to outdo the other in showing their grief as their eyes hood over, heavy from the sandman’s touch. Soon they shall file out into the sun, laughing wildly while I sit here to contemplate my own fate as it slips through my fingers and disappear like smoke into the night-sky.

Secret by Taiba AlOtaibi

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By Taiba Al Otaibi

“Come here, I have a secret to confess:

Grandfather used to tie Mother up to a tree
for hours in the blazing desert sun.
For she was too boisterous, you see
And Grandfather was not one for fun.

She rose up with such a dirt covered face
As hot tears polished away her inspiring plight;
Now a silken draped woman, so full of grace
With an efficacious core of iron might.

Although the worst that she has ever done to me
was pinch her face as she nagged in vain.
And yet there are times that I wish I had felt
the searing sting of Egyptian canes.”

Socks by Taiba AlOtaibi

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By Taiba Al Otaibi

Socks, hocks, fiddly locks, a little house on the prairie.
Hots, shots, imminently lots, the boys jumped on the ferry.
Locks, box, sly cunning fox, the girls hid all the cherries.
Hone, zone, fervently shone, the boys flipped ducked and parried.
Attack, crack, the one lonely pack, here comes the long white and hairy.
Divide, collide, a once holy pride, chained to a thought that is scary.
Amuse, bemuse, left all the old muse, stuck in a place with no berries.
Align, decline, whats yours will be mine, its all so necessary.
Sock, shock, finally unlocked, exposed toes are so airy.
Grin, shin, the one lonely fin, took off like a white canary.
Soul, hole, stunk like a troll, they all fell down the aerie.
Lock, hock, fiddly socks, and it all burnt ’round the prairie.