Pinocchio - Leungo Frank

I used to be just like Pinocchio
I wanted to be real
To feel things
Feel joy
Feel pain
Feel the rain tickle my
Skin on those perfect days
That seemed to be made
Just for me to sit and
Let my mind wander
Into the dreaminess at the
Bottom of a pot of Gold
At a rainbow’s edge

I wanted to feel
Feel the texture of your
Hair between my fingers
And feel you quiver as I
Dig my fingernails into the
Nape of your neck in those
Moments when pleasure overrides
All other senses in our beings

I would sit and pretend
That I knew what it felt
Like to feel tingles run
Up and down my spine
When he would touch
The small of my back just
To say I’m still here
How safe and content I
Would feel in that moment
Of pureness

I wanted to feel
The mythical butterflies that
Have been said to flap their
Wings in the depths of lovers’
Stomachs in time to the
Rhythmical music of their
Heartbeats
To capture one and
Have long intimate
Conversations about true love
And why it is such a rare
And endangered creature
And together we would hunt
Down its killers and torture
Them slowly
Stab them in their soulless pits
For as many broken hearts as this
World has known.

I wanted to feel
But what the bystanders never
Tell you, as they watch the
Blue Fairy wave her magic wand
Over you and all the
Fairy dust settles and the giddiness
And elation start to become a
Home you are now accustomed to
Is that feeling hurts like heaven
There is no notice about how after
You get your heart, wrapped in
A gold silk bag with drawstrings
Woven from angel hair,
The blind cat and lame fox will
Try to steal them from you
And they will fight you
Until you have nothing left
But those angel hairs lodged
Between your teeth in
Your attempts to hold on
To your most prized
And new possession

No one says to you as a
Word of warning that even
After the gift has been stolen
From you and shattered into a
Thousand and five pieces
You can still feel the pangs and
Picking in the gaping hole left there
No one tells you anything because
No one wants to be damned alone

I used to be just like Pinocchio
I wanted to be real, to feel
Now I wish it would stop

---

Leungo Frank (21st century) Botswana.
Source: Badilisha Poetry