Andrei van Wyk - Bougainvillea (2026)

Whenever I peer into the mirror, with a glint in my eye, I see my arms stretched, My knees shivering in the June winter’s breath, blue lips pierced, Fingers cracked in anticipation, while my skin shed slowly, and My shoulders broadened to the edges, But I never see myself whole. Whenever I peer into the mirror, with a loose smile, I see my arms stretched, My brown skin split from its shell, long legs, crevices, and scars, My twitch mystic, as these mosquitoes pierce the light, slouched as my diaphragm drops, But nothing to see here that is whole. Ice cream melts, wilting spinach as airplanes shudder across the garden, Tomatoes ripen, and basil is treated as the hose is left running, Pinching skin, and hair sticks to sweat with water at my toes, Shoulders draped over me, But this isn’t whole. Tender and ribbed, calming down heat with lemon and glass, The jar filled with spice, left out of stew or dust-woven ovens, She laughed, her mouth moved, with socks peppered to the side, My shoulder is where she rests, But I still feel less than whole. They would say, Never again, please, never again, But the words repeat and separate in my flunked mind, You said, Please let this be in the past, but life goes ahead, as I remain my own danger, To feel my body tense up to a sunset, I bid adieu, my evening with this, This sense of nothing, I don’t feel whole. A carpeted office, unused, with my trinkets and pages on the floor, A gift to my father, sharpened against myself, a promise or daily chore, I’ve hesitated for years, left linoleum stained, drifted towards from her, With my shoulders pensive while rolling along, This feels nothing like whole. When all this is done, my body will stick to shale and formations, splintered with metal, They find my fingers in the field, and my femur near the river, My jaw in a tree, my third left rib in a nest, a hand clenched tight. The home I once knew was condemned to antiquity, an ancient collection we have, They collect my notes, my cloth, and rings set aside in lines and rows, Here’s the collarbone pressed against each other, touching the red dust. They put me together after all this is gone, They will put me together, but never whole. credits released May 19, 2026 Produced and recorded by Andrei van Wyk. https://healeroran.bandcamp.com/album...