The guilt of depression

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There’s a certain guilt that comes with depression. I know that not everyone who has been through depression may feel this, but allow me to share my story anyway. I have a job, it isn’t much, but it has been enough for me this past few years. My bosses are also really great and friends of a friend, so automatically, we became friends. And they, have I disappointed on multiple occasions when the episodes came. I have friends who have stood with me over the years and a family that loves me. But they have been on the other side of my depression too.

I always tell myself that the next time an episode comes, I’ll be better at handling it. It feels like I was making everything up when the worst has passed. I feel like it wasn’t much of a big deal and that I should have handled it better. I tell myself that I have learned my lesson and that the next time it hits, I will handle it like a piece of cake. And every time, I am convinced that it will work. And it does, for a few days or even weeks, I can take it. I feel that I have it under control and that this time, I will make it out without disappointing anyone. That this time, I am going to be strong enough. And this time, I won’t let it break me down.

I never truly realize when I break. Sometimes, I can’t even feel it coming. Maybe I am too focused on not being on the floor I don’t realize that I am no longer standing. I don’t feel myself fall to my knees, and when the earth swallows me, I don’t feel it. And then all I can feel is an overwhelming sense of darkness, an endless pit that does nothing but grows deeper and shallower that, in the end, I’m gasping for air that never comes. In a moment, all the strength I thought I had gathered to pull me through is gone without warning, and my life feels darker than a night with no stars.

I try to tell myself that I will make it out. That it’s happened before, and I made it out anyway. I try to tell myself that I’m creating all this in my head and what I need to do is wake up, and everything will be gone.

But even when I wake up and make myself some coffee, the fog stays.

Even if I manage to get out for some fresh air on the rooftop and feel the breeze in my hair, the breathlessness stays.

Even if, by some miracle, I manage to go out with friends, drink, dance, and laugh at their jokes, the darkness stays.

I think people have a single idea of what depression looks like, and I will tell you, mine is a cycle of what people think it’s like and what it’s not like. For a long time, I denied the existence of my depression. I was afraid of visiting the therapist’s office because they’d confirm my suspicions and then tell me that there was nothing really that could be done about it. I kept to myself over and over again when the episodes hit. I still haven’t gone for a diagnosis yet. But I know enough not to deny the possibility of its existence.

But I don’t know what’s worse; between the actual episodes of depression when I felt helpless to do anything; and the after recovery period when I had to apologize to people for ghosting when I had to explain that I didn’t mean to hurt them and try to make amends with clients and bosses who’d been depending on me or try to explain to my friends why I hadn’t been answering their calls or helping them with their business plans.

This is part of the guilt.

I’m not the kind of person who is good at expressing how they feel about something. And in my vulnerability, I’m also not the best person to take criticism. If I say I am sad, but the person I’m talking to says it’s not a big deal, that I should get over it, I tend to feel that I am blowing things out of proportion and that I should move on. And so, you can imagine how trying to explain to ten people you have disappointed how it isn’t something that you felt you had control over feels like for me; or maybe not that you felt helpless to it. That you want so bad to undo it even though you know there is nothing you can do to change the past. Even though they may forgive you this one time, you’re probably just counting the days until your next penance and confession.

That’s the guilt I’m talking about.

When you get back to the living and realize life went on. And you try to catch up. To convince people to help you catch up. To always feel like you aren’t catching up and to struggle with the constant thoughts that you won’t be good enough after all. It’s when you realize that four years later, whether you see the therapist or not, your depression is still with you, and you’re still hurting people you love and care about. Not even they may understand even though you are dying for one person to understand your pain.

It is the pain of constantly trying to make your problems and emotions smaller so they don’t take up the space in the room and then blaming yourself when you’re not seen. There’s a lot of guilt that comes with depression. And I wish telling it to you could make it go away. But it doesn’t.

ps: this post offers no medical advice or diagnosis. It shouldn’t be interpreted as so.

be conscious of your comments, this is a true story.

Happily Ever after?

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Happily ever after?

Kisses and cuddles till morning. Watching sunsets after a long day and leaning into his touch when we make dinner.  Nights on the terrace watching the stars light the sky and counting falling stars. And in the morning I will have my black coffee in the black and white mug, he’ll sip his orange juice in the scotch glass because he doesn’t like water glasses. We will have two kids, a boy and a girl and name them Brian and Brianna. We’ll live by the beach so every day feels like we are on vacation. And our kids will never go to boarding school until they are in high school. Oh, and I can’t wait for my family to meet him, and the wedding, and the…

Calm your titties! It was just one kiss but you’ll have to forgive me because I have already admitted to being an over thinker, who partially believes in fate and who’s newly acquired a belief in godmothers. And godmothers bring on happily ever after, right? So you can’t really blame me for believing that the first kiss that feels real after so many disappointments will bring on true love and a happily ever after, right? Right? Well, maybe I should stop watching to many love stories. I should have learned my lesson with Kevin! Sigh!

We’re going for a drive after the date. I’m giddy as is clearly evident in my plans for our future. God, that must have been one magical kiss because he hasn’t even grabbed a boob yet and I have fallen. I am smitten, I am dead. I need saving because I am a hopeless romantic and I am really trying to keep my mouth shut before I say the wrong thing… and we all know how that went last time. But I did get a magical kiss at the end… Two actually, so no regrets. I don’t know where exactly we’re headed to because in all honesty, I’ve been staring at Michael since we left the hotel and he has not let go of my hand. He keeps planting kisses on the back of my hand, my palm and my fingers and I melt with every little squeeze. I am lost in this magical world of ours and I don’t want it to ever end, so instead of looking to see if we’re stuck in traffic or maybe we just stopped in the middle of the road, I plan for our marriage and name our kids, choose outfits for the holidays and make coffee and orange juice for breakfast in my head.

I finally snap out of it. There’s a song playing on the radio and the beat jolts me back to reality. It’s the song that was playing on my phone the day I told Kevin that I was in love with him and he shoved the words back at me like they meant nothing. He told me I was stupid for believing in happily ever after, godmothers and Father Christmas. And so the doubts set in. I’m trying to cling on to the feeling of feeling wanted, needed, loveable, the feelings of a moment ago. Not stupid. Or un-loveable. I think Michael notices, because he holds on to my hand a little tighter while I go rigid and he asks me if I would like a drink. I finally look outside and start counting passing cars and singing lonely tunes in my head. He kisses the back of my hand and exits at the next petrol station. He says he’ll be back and exits the car. I am still looking outside, but inside my head, I am hoping he’ll grab some skittles, a bottle of wine and those chocolate bars they always place so seductively at the counter so you can grab them like a cheat meal at the last minute. I know he can’t read my mind and that I should just leave the car and grab them myself. I know, but my mind says one thing and my body does the opposite. Maybe, this would be the perfect time for my godmother to show up?

We’re back on the road again and I look at Michael again. The song has ended and with it some of the heaviness.  I reach for his hand and he smiles at me then gets his eyes back on the road. I want to experience what this feels like. To want someone so bad you don’t want to care about the doubts. To want someone and something so bad that nothing else matters. To crave the intimacy, and believe in happily ever afters and to be loved back without asking for it. I want it all and I don’t want to think that maybe I am moving too fast and shouldn’t fall so soon, because everything feels so right in this moment. And then we stop. I have never been to this place, I am sure of it, but it is beautiful. I can see the city from up here, dotted with beautiful yellow, red and green lights. Maybe a little of blue too. I am out of the door before Michael can unclasp his belt and I want to dance and breath and watch the city lights from up here. I don’t know what possess me but I feel like a little girl and like nothing can take this feeling away. I scream at the top of my lungs and jump up and down and I am sure I look like I have lost my mind but it does not matter. I can feel the breeze in my hair, on my face, between my thighs as my dress rises and falls with every jump.  It feels like a little heaven up here. Michael watches me from the hood of his car with a smile on his face, but it’s not enough. In his suit n tie, I grab his hands and twirl him around. I must admit, I am a pathetic dancer, but with freedom this much I could own the world.

I am breathless and happy and free and the lonely song has all but faded to the back of my mind. I stand on tiptoes and kiss his lips, long and passionate and hard. I grab his shirt and look deep into his eyes in the semidarkness and he smiles at me. Maybe fairy godmothers do exist after all, because he brought the wine and the chocolates. Maybe after I tell him my skittles story, he’ll have them next time, but for tonight, this is perfection. We spend the entire night under the stars and I know that’s a crazy thing to do on a first date, but have you met me?

I don’t want to leave when morning comes, but he has to travel in the afternoon and at least needs some sleep before he’s behind the wheel again. He holds me close and says to me;

“Baby, you know I can’t sleep when you’re here, at least not today. I want to touch your hair and kiss your lips and watch your face and everything that you are. I want to hear you laugh, and see how your face gets animated when I ask about something that means a lot to you. I could stare at you all day, and then I’d never sleep. “

“I have my doubts, I swear I do. But when you call me baby, everything stops and all I can hear is my heart beating like it’s going to break out of its chest… when you call me baby, I want to kiss the breath out of you because I don’t know how else to show you that it means the world to me. Oh Michael, if only I could gain the courage to tell you this…”

It’s been a week. A whole seven days, 167 hours and 42 minutes since I last saw Michael. And I know this sounds crazy but if I don’t see him in the next hour, I will lose my mind. He is travelling back today. He’ll be in town by curfew and I have already told him tomorrow is too long for me to see him so he’s coming to my house tonight. I am losing my mind by the minute anyway, because I don’t know what I’ll do. I might jump his bones. Or follow him around like a lost puppy and sit outside the shower when he freshens up because we’re not at the showering together stage yet. I’m even overthinking what to wear because I’ve never really had a guy come to my place at night and I can’t afford to have the wrong outfit.

I have to go and figure out all these things. At least I know dinner is beef, ugali and greens. And before you say I should have ordered in Chinese, I know that’s his favorite. Wish me luck, because tonight, I will claim him as mine and call him baby when he’ll be too far gone to remember his own name.

Did you say kissing?

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Have you watched Mulan? If you haven’t, you definitely should. It’s one of those movies that just leave you with questions, or perhaps I am an overthinking person who reads more into things than I should. And then I question who determines how much thinking is too much, who decides that and how on earth I’m I ever to stop questioning if I can’t tell how much is too much. I guess I will leave it all to fate then, the kind of fate I don’t know if I fully believe in or if I just blame for things I didn’t do well enough and things I did too well I’m afraid of taking credit for. Loyal, brave and true. Three simple words but I can’t take them out of my mind ever since I heard Mulan say them and now I have found that they sound better in my ears without the Chinese accent. I found Christina Aguilera and she has been singing them over and over in my ears I can hardly tell when the song starts and when it ends. I am obsessed.


I’m seated across from Michael and I have a smile on my face. I’m trying to determine if it’s a nervous smile or if I am just happy to see him or maybe it’s out of years of practice and I’m so used to smiling I practically don’t know what else to do. I’m trying not to falter from his piercing gaze because I feel like it’s a staring competition that didn’t require us to prepare for. I read, for this date. I shopped for this date. I even called my mother and without necessarily telling her anything, I told her about him just so she could tell me that I can do this. The thrill is kinda wearing off and I’m not all that confident like I was when we met. But how can I not be, scared that is? I am realizing perhaps too late or maybe too early that this night means more to me than dressing up and impressing and a good dinner that doesn’t require me to do the dishes later.


I think he’s talking, about his day or my hair and I hold his gaze steadily and smile sweetly. I want to be here, present in this moment, I want to breathe in deeply and honestly laugh at his jokes, but if I close my eyes, he will know something is wrong. And I can’t let that happen. I want one, maybe five seconds, to breathe in and out and get all the doubts that my ‘ex’ implanted in my head. To remind me that I am good enough and that as much as I am lucky to be here with Michael, I am worthy of this attention he is showering me. Loyal, brave and true, that is what I want to be, with myself. To some extent, I had convinced myself that I could do this, that I am past healing and it is time to move on. But what if I am not and Michael sees that and decides to leave me here, will I ever gain the courage to put myself out there again? If my heart is broken before it is truly healed, will it stop bleeding at all?


“Do you ever get scared? Scared that if someone truly knew all your colours, they wouldn’t want you anymore?”


The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I hold my hand across my mouth. I want to apologize for cutting off whatever he was saying, but I was so lost in my head that I honestly don’t recall what he was going on about. And he doesn’t ask me, thankfully. I look at him straight in the eyes and wait for what he will say. I need him to say something. Anything. But instead, he stares back to me. He opens his mouth to say something and then swallows his words in his saliva. I want to crack his thoughts.


“I… that’s a complicated question.”


He looks down into his coffee cup. He tilts his hands on his lap. He looks at the waitress. I don’t want to think about the question, so I watch his every move. If I think too much about it, I might let it slide through and tell him it’s not a must that he answers. I might apologize and tell him that I haven’t gone on a date in a long while and that all the stuff I spent the last few days reading kind of just evaporated and my weird side is out before I can tell her to take a back seat and watch. But I need him to answer, I know I do. So I stare as he moves his hands, and his Adam’s apple bubbles up and down his throat and I look at the arc of his eyebrows and the lashes. Okay, that’s enough distraction.


“I do get scared. This moment right now, I am scared. I’m scared that when my nights will be dark, the darkness may be too much for you. I’m scared that maybe this evening means more to me than it does for you and I’m trying to show you what it means, and I’m scared that maybe I have said too much and now your phone will ring on a fake emergency call from your best friend and you’ll leave and we will be done before we’ve truly begun…” He’s starting to blabber now and all I can do is smile. Not because he’s blabbering though.


I reach out and hold his hands in mine and he stills. He looks at me with a look I can’t exactly read, and we stare into each other’s eyes. Have you watched Bridgerton and there are those numerous scenes where those love birds just stare into each other’s eyes and you can literally feel the electricity between them? (Sorry, I don’t do spoilers so go watch the series, lol). That is what it’s like for me at this moment. Suddenly, all I want is to claim his lips in mine. To taste the wine he’s been sipping and to smell his freshness from beneath his neck as I explore the curve of his collarbone. All I really wanna do is hold his neck in my arms and kiss him thoroughly, with every fibre of my being till we both forget what the world beyond us feels like. I can feel it, and since I haven’t been keeping dinner date rules anyway, I decide in a split second that breaking one more won’t hurt. Wait, did you guys say kissing isn’t for first dates?


I can feel his eyes as I rise to my feet. The way my dress shifts and his eyes follow every movement and I can feel him tense up because I still have his hands in mine. For a minute, I hesitate, but the look in his eyes is everything. I pull him out of his chair and pull him closer. He would pull away if he didn’t want this, right? Please God, don’t let him change his mind. What if he doesn’t want to do this today, here? I’m starting to overthink this so instead, I voice my thoughts


“I want nothing more than to…”

I don’t finish the sentence, because when I pause and bite my lip, he has his lips on mine faster than I could have finished the thought. It’s magic, it’s musical, its fireworks. It’s all those romcoms I’ve watched ever since I was sixteen. It’s all those forbidden magazines I read in between my blankets so mum would never find out. It’s every poetry I’ve ever written and it’s as magical as anything I have ever imagined. I don’t know how long we last and it doesn’t matter, but when we come to, I can feel all eyes in the restaurant on us. I’m about to start thinking that maybe one of them is a police officer and we’ll go to jail for breaking the rules, but as I hear someone clap behind me and shout “Get him girl” I can’t help but smile and blush deeply.


As Christina raises her voice and my heart soars with her, I cannot help but get lost in the meaning of the words. How often are we lost and how often are we hiding so we don’t have to face what’s true behind the armors we don each day? What are you without the armor? What I’m I? And in this minute, I realize that I don’t have to figure everything out yet, just that I want this man with everything in me and he wants me enough to bare his soul to me. And so I grab the back of his neck again and push my luck a little farther. I guess one night in the cell wouldn’t hurt.

what do people talk about on dates?

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So, you remember all those one-night stands whose names I don’t even remember? Well, I mean not all of them but yes, most of them? Well, I decided to quit on them a while ago and I’ve been doing this self-reflection thing and trying on this glove called self-love and I tell you, it’s a tough one. Not the fitting bit, no, that one is perfect.  But I’m still working on how comfortable I am to walk in it in public. It’s like a perfect bikini. You spot it while walking down the street and you can instantly tell that it’s your size, the shade of pink is perfect for your skin and the price is just right. You twirl around in it and watch yourself in the mirror and even pair it up with heels and it feels really good, but every time you want to wear it to the pool, you feel like it’s too revealing of your curves, your beautiful desirable and totally insane curves. You’re gorgeous in them and you know it, but you somehow haven’t mastered on the confident walk that these bikinis deserve. Instead, you ease your way into them. First, you do the yoga pants that leave completely nothing to imagination, then you do booty shorts and tank top, then you graduate to hiding your bikini in a see through lace and finally, you’ll get rid of the lace too and you can totally rock that bikini pair without a care in the world. That’s kind of how I’m easing into this self-love thingy. And honestly, if you haven’t tried it, you totally should. Oh, and I’m so open to cocktails or coffee dates if you want some pointers on how this flows.

Anyway, talking of dates, I was going to tell you about my first real date after all these escapades of shabby hotel rooms and people’s magnificent bedrooms with perfect lighting. We met almost by accident. I say almost because I had partly planned for this meeting. Not that I knew who I was going to meet but I had made it a requirement for that day that I would definitely end up on a scheduled date by the end of the day. I was trying out new things that had my blood boiling and things that kept me up late at night and most of all, things that made me feel that what I was doing was greater than myself. And this was one of those nights. A journalist friend of mine had mentioned a breakfast meeting at the Hilton hotel whose main agenda was gender equality. That was straight up my lane. It was the kind of event that was not necessarily open to the public, but it wasn’t necessarily closed either, and I didn’t really care what that meant. The only interpretation I needed was that there was a possibility for me to attend without being on the official invite list. And I was also going to dress up. Way to go.

On that morning, I dressed in a black halter dress and paired that up with gold jewelry and golden heels. I was not going to miss this opportunity and I knew the only sure way was dressing up in a way that left no questions as to my invitation. And then I did a whole background check on all the invited organizations, all available information about the organizers and virtually everything else I could find about the event. Then I was good to go. Everything was going perfectly well; I had gained access without a hitch even though I arrived thirty minutes late, I hadn’t missed a table and I even had the chance to enjoy my breakfast without choking on a single bite of bacon or dropping my cutlery or getting mixed up on whether to use the American fork and knife style or the continental one without overthinking it. And the speeches were perfect, and trust me that’s a deal breaker for me because I find speeches to be a real bore, with barely new information and no jokes to keep me afloat. And then he rose up.

His name was Michael and I could instantly tell he was the kind of guy that grabbed the attention of everyone when he walked into a room. He was sharply dressed; navy blue suit, white shirt and red tie. I wanted to see his shoes, but honestly, I was more captivated by his hair. Long dark locks with dyed ends and stylishly bundled in a ponytail. It was a strange combination; at least my mum would have thought so, but I found it unsettling and appealing. To this day, I can recite to you the whole speech that he gave on that day. He was relevant and passionate and I was wholly consumed in his words I barely noticed when I dropped my fork halfway through my breakfast, or when the lady seated next to me tried to hand me napkin. I could have listened to him for ages and when he was done, I clapped even though no one else was doing it, it wasn’t that kind of event, but I didn’t care.

Later, I would be embarrassed. And he teased me about it. After the event was over, I grabbed a glass of juice and took out my notebook just to see if there was something worth noting that could have forgotten. I was so caught up that I forgot my embarrassing moment, or that the second reason I was there was to find someone who was as invested in life changing initiatives as I was. Then I heard someone clearing his throat next to me. I was kind of irritated to be interrupted, because that is the universal sign of, “Do you mind if I have a moment of your time?” and I was already picking an answer from the many options in my head that I usually reserve for an occasion just like this. But when I looked up, everything I had ever formulated stuck in my throat and I swear for a minute there I lost my voice. I think he liked how lost I suddenly seemed, I could see it I his eyes as he stood there smiling. I should have said something, but I just stared until he asked if I was taking notes to make a fan club for him seeing as I had so boldly applauded his ideas. I blushed then, and looked down, but thank God for my dark skin otherwise I would be spotting some red cheeks and whatever other indicators of blushing there are in the world. He sat on the chair next to me and I told him I would consider that idea, as long as I didn’t discover he was a pathological liar who would do and say anything for attention. We hit it off then because unlike other men I had met, he actually understood my sense of humor. It was as though my prayers had been answered in one unexpected way.

It could have been hours or days; it didn’t matter, because the world around us seemed to have vanished. We moved to the lounge when the hotel personnel came to clean the meeting room. We had coffee and then way too soon, it was lunch time. I wish I could remember what we had for lunch, but I was too absorbed in conversation with him that you could have fed me raw tuna and I couldn’t have cared or noticed. And soon, we were having cocktails and laughing at silly jokes. Glasses were refilled, the sun set, and the birds went to sleep. Too soon, it was time to call it a day.

He stood outside my car door and asked me if we could meet again. In that moment, I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to go out with him again, but because I didn’t remember what it was like to say yes to a second date with a guy. I had perfected the art of sneaking away and disappearing, the art of skimming the surface and never staying long enough to dive into the deep end, and the art of not looking into someone’s eyes with a longing that meant more than just a few hours in the night. I hesitated and I could see him momentarily panic as I looked up at him from the safety of my car. I could drive off and he would have no idea how to reach me, and that would be the end of that. But I really wanted to say yes. I opened my car door again and stood in front of him. I could have given him a kiss, I badly wanted to. But, I also wanted a second date. Instead, I leaned in for a hug that lasted a minute longer than normal hugs. I inhaled his scent, drifting through the night air and closed my eyes listening to my heartbeat and feeling his hands tighten around my waist. Then I pecked him on his cheek. I climbed back into my car and smiling, I told him I’d have been disappointed if he hadn’t asked. And then I drove off.

It is crazy, because in all that time, I hadn’t remembered to ask him for his contact information or him mine. He didn’t know where I lived and neither did I. All I had was his name, but that’s not the problem. I will easily find him, because as good as I was on disappearing, I was also good at finding things or people who didn’t want to be found. My biggest problem at the moment is, when I meet Michael on Thursday for dinner and drinks later, what will we talk about? I mean, what do people talk about on dates? Because, it’s been so long I have forgotten.

one-night-stand-s

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He said no to me. After all the pursuit of years and years and all the fantasies I created in my bed for him. He said no. After I promised I would give him everything that the world would gift to me, my life, my breath and everything in between, he said no. After I told him how much he meant to me and that I could hold my breath when he was around me but could barely breathe when he was gone, he still said no to me. And that crushed me. Remember that time I told you guys about y ex who called me boring? No shit! I was not boring with this Kevin. I was everything magical and un-boring, and even that wasn’t enough. So I made a vow, but first let’s talk about these other guys whose names I will try my best to remember.

First, there was Martin. I swear to God, Martin was the kind of guy you wanted to have babies with. He was hot, with long hair, that inviting chest that screams lie on me and legs that just begged to be dressed in shorts. We met two weeks after Kevin said no, and I had decided that I was done wallowing and it was way past time that I moved on past him. Ted’s mom in ‘How I met your mother’ always said that nothing good ever happens after 2 a.m. and I swear on so many occasions I was inclined to disagree with her because some pretty magical shit has happened after 2 a.m. I hoped this would be one of those magical nights because Martin would help me forget. I watched him from across the bar for more than an hour and surprisingly, there was no girl in sight. He must be gay, I thought, but this little voice inside of me kept pushing me to make a move, never mind that I had been disappointed before by these powerful legs made even taller by the red strap heels I was sporting. After one final short of tequila, a slice of lemon and a sip of cold water, I walked purposefully towards him.

There could have been a fire at the next table or the pregnant woman I had noticed at table number five could have been screaming labor pains but none of that was going to stop me. I was a woman on a mission and my girl and I were going to get it tonight. He spotted me, two tables before I got to him and watched me with somewhat drooping eyes. I could have sworn in that moment that I had never beheld anything as beautiful as that man, seated a few feet from me, glass in hand, legs somewhat outstretched and stray hair stuck on his face. I could tell you what he was wearing, but really what I was more interested in was what lay under. Call me creepy or whatever, but as our eyes met and he wheeled his legs towards me, I could tell his interest was piqued as well. Long story short, we ended up in his apartment in some posh area in Kilimani. It was well organized, clean and meticulously so. And his bed was haven for the night. When morning came and I washed the make- up off my face after I asked if I could use the bathroom, I looked at my eyes and there was something different in them. As the hot water ran down my body and I stood there wondering what clothes I would be wearing after my shower, I could still feel Martin’s hands on me from last night. They didn’t feel like Kevin’s and he didn’t hold me like Kevin, but at least he did hold me for the night. I knew then, that I would not be seeing him again. I knew then that the night had forever changed me, and I knew then that I’d set myself up for a drug last night.

The next week was Deli. I asked him why his mum named him Deli and he said they were hoping to have a girl and name her Delilah. I asked her if they were Christians, because surely no mother would want a daughter who is set on deceit even if it meant they gained the whole world. She said the parents never cared, and anyway, they were Hindu and Delilah had always been a nick-name his grandmother called his mother. I didn’t delve into that. It seemed to me that there was a longer story there than he was willing to share and I knew that I wouldn’t be sticking around long enough to find out from his mother. For him, it was a hotel room. After, he promised he’d call. He was sweet and tender and kind. He fixed me a glass of juice after and asked if I needed a ride home. I said I would be fine, took a shower first and drank my drink later. And when he went to the loo after me, I snuck out of the hotel room, and dressed in my heels outside the door. I didn’t want him to call later, because I knew what I was doing and that did not include good morning texts and goodnight kisses.

                I could have stopped there, because even before I started, I knew that there was no return for the road I was taking. I knew that more than anyone else, I always caught up late in the game after everyone else had scored. And I knew that if I kept on going, I would be leaving later than everyone else. But I did it anyway. Because I wanted to see another face other than Kevin’s and I wanted whiskey smells to mean more than the kisses we had in the middle of the night when we stumbled home from a night out. I wanted mornings with coffee and smiles with strangers and I wanted no-strings-attached. And so I strung along on my ride Martin and Deli and then there was Luca, and then there’d been Rahim and Simon. And if I’m being completely honest, the list of names I could not remember far outweighed the list I could.

And then came the night at the beach. I could have sworn it was the crabs that I was afraid off as they scurried away from us and the little cocoon we had created for ourselves. And anyway, that is what I told Jamie. But I knew better. We had met that evening at an event that had been postponed to the coast. As a rule, I would never miss an event I had paid for and especially not one that I was bound to enjoy. On the dance floor I watched people dance and I so much wanted to let go and just feel my body free like them. But I knew I had two left feet and that was not going to be me. So, with drink in one hand and clutch in the other, I swayed for a little while as I let the music swirl around me. Later on, I decided to walk on the beach, still drink in hand, clutch in the other and heels on my shoes. I have to admit, it was a pretty pathetic attempt. Stumbling back, I sat at the bar once again and something melancholic came over me. I couldn’t have seen him coming, because to be honest, I was so lost in my thoughts and my drink was about to slip from my fingers when he cleared his throat. He asked if he could sit beside me and I absent-mindedly nodded. I don’t know how long we sat like that, his eyes on me and my eyes on something in some distant place where nothing existed. And then he said, “You have to try the Mango Margarita.’ We had had cocktails and watched the sun set with mesmerizing ease. I said little and he talked a lot. He was animated and he pulled me to the dance floor, daring me to say no because he knew all I wanted to do was dance as if nothing mattered because he’d watched me all evening. By the time the night was coming to a close, we didn’t want to leave. So instead, we walked to the beach, and lay on the wet sand.

I counted the stars, as he kissed my lips. I clutched the sand as he unstrapped my bra. I listened to the waves as he moaned my name. And suddenly all I could see were the faces of the string I had created and the ceilings I had stared on to. All I could feel were the hands that had grazed my skin as I clawed on their backs. All I could hear were our moans all mixed up to form a sound so incredibly high I couldn’t find the delight in the sounds anymore. I clutched at his shirt then and pushed him away. And I ran. I ran towards the waters and I don’t remember what I thought because I couldn’t swim. From far off in the distance, I could hear Jamie asking me to come back but I could not differentiate between what was real and what wasn’t. I must have stopped at some point or maybe, he came for me and dragged me out of the water, I don’t remember. When my heart began to beat normally again, all I could think about was how hollow I had become. He was holding me in his arms and I knew that really what I had been looking for was this kind of warmth. Warmth I had locked away as I closed myself out from the light I so desperately needed. Warmth I had locked myself out from when I refused to love myself enough to have let him go. I could have held on for longer, but I let him go. I looked hard into his eyes and smiled gratefully at him. I kissed his lips, clutched my heels in one hand and my clutch in the other. He watched, silent and unsure as if I was going to run off again. I cast one last glance at him and said thank you. As I walked away from his beautiful face, I thought to myself,

“It is finally time.”

He’s my Husband!

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I always knew I would never date a married man, at least not knowingly; it was a rule of mine. A rule I made way before I even understood what marriage is or what sleeping with someone is, and yes, there was such a time. I don’t think I cared much for the man and what he did or didn’t want. I know I cared for my conscience and trust me I have nothing against those who sleep or date married people, or people in committed non-open relationships. And now that I mentioned open relationships, I think life would be so much easier for cheating spouses if they just sat down and decided to be in committed open relationships, especially in this age and era where the only associations we make with relationships are ‘mtaachana tu’ or some other negative remark like ‘hoe sis, he’s also hoeing out there’. Like what happened to believing in happily ever after and celebrating our twenty-fifth anniversary? What happened to that idea of relationships or are we so hell-bent on pretending to not care that we end up convincing ourselves that we shouldn’t care at all, even if that’s the only thing we want to do? What happened to the idea of happy, genuine relationships or has Instagram pushed us to the idea of pretending to be happy that that has become a lifestyle and we are no longer concerned with the depth of happiness and joy and genuine laughter? Have we all become such good actors that it doesn’t matter anymore?


Anyway, let’s get back to me and my married men. I’d gone to buy supplies for dinner in town. I really wanted to make some rice and peas stew, and yes, that’s a thing. Wait, you already knew that. Okay. I also wanted a bottle of wine, badly. So, I have a place close to my house that I like getting my alcohol from. So I decided to grab the things I needed for dinner then get my bottle of wine, go back home, pour a glass, switch off all the lights and light candles all over the house. I was going to be alone anyway, so I would talk to the shadows in the dark and be like, “Honey, dinner will be ready in half an hour. Would you mind pouring me another glass and for God’s sake change the music?” And then I’d sneak on myself with a knife in my hand and scream because I’d think it’s a ghost. There’s such a story somewhere, I’m sure of it. I was coming up with all these things in my head as I walked into town and the flow was really good I actually had myself believing they were real, but after grabbing my things for dinner, I was standing at the road wondering if I should cross back and go home or go to one of those night clubs and just grab a drink without the ghost stories and the honey pretence. I chose the club, just for sanity.


When I got to the club, the place was full to the brim, the tables were all taken and the crowding got me thinking of COVID-19 flu catching every one of us in there, but like the responsible twenty-something year old that I am, I decided to go right head and sit on one of the already occupied tables. Table number one was reserved with a guy nursing a bottle of beer and I assumed he was waiting for his girl to get there; I wouldn’t want to interrupt that now, would I? Table number two had another guy sitting by himself without a drink so I thought I’d ask him too. It was reserved and I almost cussed my way out of the club and went home to honey anyway. Then he said I could sit till his cousin got there. I was elated, I mean, I was only going to grab one drink and I was sure by the time she arrived, I would have been done. I’m a Cider girl, he was a Tusker guy. When the waitress brought his beers I asked for one of mine. I’m not sure how she knew one would not be enough and she ended up bringing two. It would have been rude to refuse the drink offered by such a beautiful and overworked girl. He paid, though, and I saw the trick. He wouldn’t have to ask for my number, because I would send him M-pesa anyway. Cool. We talked, and laughed and bonded. He was from some place on the coast, and he had heard stories about Nairobi girls, so naturally, he was scared. I assumed he’d heard that Nairobi girls drug you and then steal all your money, or some other shit like they seduce you into their beds knowing that you’re married and then blackmail you into giving them money or they will tell your wife and you remember we don’t do open relationships yet, you know? I laughed, but I could tell he was serious. There was something else though. If that’s how he felt, why invite me to sit at the table and keep the conversation going?


Anyway, his cousin showed up at last, with a group of girlfriends and men, it was like we had known each other forever. We were dancing and singing at the top of our lungs and sharing jokes and drunken moments, taking pictures on Snapchat and inviting each other to some weekend getaway. Bottom-line, it was all fun and jokes.

He called me, later in the night. I don’t think he is the faithful kind. I think he’s the ‘committed but if I see something I like, I’ll hit it’ kind of guy. But anyway, I am single, what do I know of relationships. I might have said some things I don’t remember, but I do remember telling him that I don’t do married guys and asking him why he’s married but sleeping around. He must have answered me, and the answer might have made sense, but I don’t remember. It was a long conversation and I only hope I didn’t reveal about that time I went to my then neighbour’s pool naked in the middle of the night only to be caught by the guard who didn’t know whether to tell his boss or get me something to cover up. Kids, you don’t want to drink too many shots after a heartbreak from a guy who told you you’re no fun, you don’t take risks and your life is basically one big bore. Because then, you want to prove to yourself that you can take risks, so you end up in your neighbour’s pool, with a blaring flashlight in your eyes and you’re not sure whether to cover your titties or your eyes.


Fast-forward to the next evening. He asked me if I would be up for a karaoke night. I had never done anything like that before. I can only sing so long in the shower before I tell myself to shut up. But who is me, I told him I’d call back with an answer. I knew I would go before I even choose what outfit to wear. He said he was with friends, and so that worked even better for me. Just song and dance and a good time, then we’d all haul our asses into cabs with different destinations before the stupid curfew caught up with us. I got there just in time and he introduced me to his friends. They’re all out of my age group, I could instantly tell that. I’m not good with age or all these other things that people guess like tribes and where you were born or what you do for a living, and the shape of your toes is just by looking at your face, and I could certainly not say what age group they were in. I could only tell that it wasn’t my age group. Drinks flowed and conversations and karaoke. They were fun, they had amazing voices and I could tell they are the kind of crowd I feel comfortable with because we can talk arts and I get to ask questions and then listen. I was having a good time, complementing their skills and all that without having to say what I did, because what do you say? That I’m a student who’s still confused what she wants to do, but I’m currently volunteering, writing, blogging and stalking people on social media to see who would be helpful if I chose to get into that kind of field? So yes, I will ask the questions and shift the limelight to them.


It was working well until I asked this guy what he did for a living. And the only other lady at the table answers that he is her husband. I obviously didn’t know that. But I was honestly more interested in what he did for a living, so I reframed the question. And of course, she answered for him again, that he was her husband full-time. So I asked her what she did for a living and she said she was his wife, full time. I knew what she did for a living, I’d already asked my friend and I was impressed because it had something to do with kids and some amazing artwork and talent nurturing, I mean, who wouldn’t be? She laughed it off and said she was drunk.


Then it hit me. She was marking her boundaries; that I wasn’t to cross the line. He is her husband, full-time and I wasn’t allowed on that side of the line. I wasn’t to ask him what he did for a living because that could translate into an interest of mine and I would go out with him like I was with their friend. I wasn’t to ‘flirt’ with her husband, because at that point, any conversation we had could be interpreted to mean completely different things. I think she thought I’m a husband snatcher and I couldn’t blame her. After all, I was here with a married man, whose wife or kids I didn’t even know and who seemed interested in something other than sharing a drink and just talking like two adults without necessarily bringing the topic of spending a night in some hotel room together, clinking things other than drinks together. I got the hint soon enough, and I laughed internally. I laughed at how so-not-funny the whole situation was. I wasn’t interested in her husband or the other husband on my right either. At least not the kind of interest that ended up with clothes strewn on the floor and sheets tangled around our bodies. I was interested in who they were as human beings, what they did, what made them laugh and what were the most embarrassing moments of their childhood. I was interested in knowing who they are because I am an intimate kind of person and I can only hold basic small talk conversations for so long.


But well, he’s my husband!

That put me in my place, and off to the washroom I went.

About us;

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I’m holding in too many words and holding on to too many feelings

Feelings about you and me and us

Things I wish I had the courage to tell you but around you I’ve learned to hold my tongue

I’ve learned to smile and touch gently and to only focus on things that make you happy

And that is just sad

I want to ask you what it is you think we’re doing here

Because I feel my heartbeat rise each time I’m round you and I’ve been with you long enough to know that it does for you too

I see it in the way you smile at me from across the room

I see it in the way your eyes twinkle and when you spot me in a room full of people

And how you hug me and lift me up high each time as if we haven’t seen each other for months when it’s only been days

I can tell in the way we love between the sheets as passionately as if it’s the first time all over again

And in the way you cuddle me after and trace your fingers across my stomach

But I am haunted when you go to sleep and the words wake me in the middle of the night

I’m worried that I might sleep-talk some day and you’ll know all that’s in my head

I’m struggling to keep it together long enough for you to bring up the conversation

But I also know that I’ve become so good at going you what you want and need that I may not remember all the words I want to say if you were to ask about us

I’m scared,

Scared to bring it up and mess this whole thing up

I’m scared that if I stir the pot I may spill the contents and the fire will be out in a second

And I’ll be left cleaning the mess of frothy beans and filthy soups and spoilt meals

I’m scared that if I stir the pot even one little bit, that may be the end of us

I know,

I know how ridiculous this sounds because my friends told me how nuts I sound,

I know because I’ve been here before and I said I wouldn’t do this to myself again

And I should know better because I know you better, but you have little idea of who I am

Yet myself and I have been acquainted for long enough to know that the dust has not settled yet

And to worry that it may never settle enough for me to walk away unscathed

But then, I think you do know me enough

You know that I snore if I lie on my stomach, yet you still hold me at night

You know I hate country music on Saturday mornings because it brings back memories I never had so you make a mix tape for all my mornings,

You know I have double standards on pizza and chocolate milk

You know your sister hates me for being too sassy and your brother thinks I’m too brash

Yet you love me anyway,

So how can I say you know me not?

So back to us,

I’m holding you in my arms tonight

Watching you sleep so soundly and peacefully, wondering how I can feel so much love for you and still be worried

Wondering how it is I can feel so secure in your arms and yet so afraid of what could be

Wondering how I can want the world with you and yet not have the courage to ask you to go on this ride with me

How I can be so sure you’ll stay yet be so afraid that the steps we have taken are not enough to make us last

How can all this negativity and positivity co-exist in one soul?

I wish it was as easy as it was before,

But then it’s never been easy for me

I mean loving you comes easy to me

I don’t have to pretend when I look into your eyes and kiss your lips

I don’t have to pretend when I hold you in my arms and promise not to let go

It comes easy to me to make a hangover cure for you when you were out with the boys al night

And it comes so easy to me to love you in every way I know how

Making you discover things about yourself you never thought you had in you

But I can’t for the love of me bring myself to ask you about us,

I don’t have to because I can see it in everything you do,

It’s just that I can’t just let it go and yet it’s killing me because I can’t find a way to ask you

And maybe the fear of losing the one thing that comes easy to me is what shuts my lips instead of makes it easier to open them

photo credit:myfreewallpapers.net

Of a love that never was

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I’m seating at the café again,

And I think this has become a habit that I didn’t want to develop

I remember the first time I came here, I mean we

I remember, because it is the only thing about us that I haven’t made up in my head

I was elated, that my dreams were finally coming true and the radiance could not be masked or dimmed

Not by the waitress who thought she was too sassy to be serving anyone as young as I

Or the patron who ridiculed me for going out with you and said I was still ‘too young to understand the world’ and that I was ‘rushing my way through life’ and sooner or later, I would regret the haste

I have no idea why everything else seemed to be radiating the negativity while this was the most promising day of my life,

 I mean, maybe I should have listened to the signs and then maybe I would have prepared myself for the tears that were about to fall later,

You were happy too,

You held my hand and I could literally feel my heart dancing in my chest, too full for me not to dance on tip-toes

I remember everything, from the smell of the coffee, to the blue Range Rover packed outside on the street, to the table we sat at and the mirror right across from me,

They’ve added an art-piece of a woman carrying a child and holding a piece of wood on the other hand by the way,

I don’t know what it means; I never was really good with art,

But I bet you’d love it, with the texture and the colors and the way it makes you feel as if you’re standing next to the woman

Anyway, she is my company these days; we have grown well acquainted with each other,

She tells me about her child, about the husband who didn’t stick around long enough to know she was pregnant and about the many men she met after that,

And each of them couldn’t take the place of her first, no matter how good they were…

And every time she has to walk away because she doesn’t understand why she can still be in love with someone who trampled her and viewed her as nothing

With someone who couldn’t care to find out if his daughter had blue or green eyes, and who didn’t care in the first place

She doesn’t understand how she can have compassion for a man, who walked out way too early for them to have created something magical together,

I tell her I understand, I tell her to wipe the tear that falls on her right cheek, and I tell her to stop blaming herself,

She never listens, and I never quit telling her to listen, every day

We have become well acquainted, because the other day, looking only at her eyes and thinking of her daughter, I heard her tell me how much alike we were.

I wanted to tell her how true that was,

I wanted to bring my son to meet her daughter, and maybe they’d have a laugh at how the mean waitress spilled hot coffee on her white shirt the other day and burned her breasts,

I wanted to ask her if we could have a drink at another restaurant and break from the links that bound us to this café, almost as if we shouldn’t leave,

But I thought of you, and that day

Heart thumping, face radiant and eyes glowing

And how much I had anticipated the surprise all day…

I was surprised alright; enough that I ran to the bathroom and wondered what it would feel like to sit there all night and never leave the cubicle

Enough that I ran out of the cubicle and never joined you back at the table

Enough that that was the last time I ever saw your face again.

I didn’t expect that you’d leave me for her, and happily so

I knew that we were nothing, we always had been,

Nothing , but it was me who carried your secrets,

Nothing but it was me who wiped your tears and helped you get up when you thought you were done,

Nothing, but it was me who did everything that someone who is everything does for someone…

Nothing,

But I thought that had changed, at least the taste of your lips on mine convinced me so

The way you held on to me as if for dear life when it was over, and the way you cuddled me later that night as the rain fell and dusk turned into dawn,

I thought that nothing changed to something,

Everything,

Anything!!

How could I have known?

How could you have known?

For I said nothing…

Not when morning came and I made breakfast in your shirt,

Not when you held my hand and told me she’d finally called and you were getting back together,

Not after I ran out of the cubicle and never came back to the table

And not after I moved to a new neighborhood and threw away the sheets that reminded me of you

So, I still come here, every Saturday and sit by the window and talk to the woman who never hears,

I try to leave, but the tears on her face beckon me every day,

I’m hoping that this letter and this drink are the last of you,

But if you saw the stack of papers in my backroom, you’d understand why I’m not so hopeful about that thought

I don’t know what I hope to achieve, or maybe deep down, I do

I’m just not ready to dive in that far deep

Maybe next time I will,

Maybe never;

I know, and I’m sorry

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I know,

I know what I said last time and I know I promised it was the last time that I was going to break a promise I ever made to you,

I know, and I am sorry about that…

But how do I get you to trust me when all I have done this past few months is give you reason not to trust me?

How do I get my hands on the manual that teaches me how to keep promises and how not to make promises I can’t keep?

How do I get myself to learn that I can’t make you trust me if I don’t trust myself?

Well, maybe we should start at the very beginning,

A little recap if I may,

Because I never told you the full story

I wasn’t always this broken and clumsy darlin’

I wasn’t always forgetting the important stuff

I wasn’t always making too many promises trying to make up for what I never could give

At least that’s what he made me feel anyway, that’s what he told me on a daily basis,

All the while telling me how much I meant to him, but only if I could change this or make that a little more…

‘But that’s harmless, you just adjust a little’,

At least that’s what everyone said, that’s what the older women had said

That’s the advice I’d heard while fleeting through some thing or the other

Compromise;

And I believed them…

Tried to change and tweak and bend a little more so I’d be more enough

Tried to adjust and change my clothes and how much teeth I showed in my smile

Just a little at a time, until it was no longer compromise… took it a bit too far;

I went to see a therapist last week, an internet site whose name I don’t remember suggested that would be a good idea,

I don’t know what I hoped for;

If it was an old woman, would she judge me as stupid for believing in love ‘too young’?

If it was a young woman, would she possibly have gone through the same and be in need to unpack of her stories and I could trick her to talking about hers and not me about mine?

If it was an old guy, would he even understand what I claimed to feel or see me as just a minion with distorted ideas and illusions of a love the world doesn’t give?

And what if it was a young man with the same suit as the one he wore on our last day together, would I even get through the door or would his eyes make me run like I should have done with him?

In the end, I had to cancel my appointment, because the therapist got ill and couldn’t show up for work.

So, maybe I’ll go next week

But sitting there figuring out a thousand ways of how to tell the therapist my story, I found a way to tell it to you,

So, before you ask me “Why now, why not tell me yesterday, why didn’t you tell me two months ago?

Why didn’t you come clean to me when you said you trusted me?”

Before any of that is the first thing that comes to mind, listen, at least so I don’t lose my nerve.

He bruised my lips then kissed them, telling me the taste of blood was a reminder of a wrong that I wouldn’t do again,

He’d pour my food down the drain and then hold my hand and feed me Chinese in public,

He’d shut me up with words at the top of his lungs at 3am and then cuddle me to sleep five minutes later,

Cutting me open then sowing me up together with such tender care I forgot he was the one who caused the blood and tears to flow in the first place,

And I got addicted to the cycle of pain and pleasure, all too soon…

Like a drug, I was hooked to the highs and lows and he knew how to dose them out so I didn’t realize I was slowly killing myself, one blow after another tender kiss,

I couldn’t get out, and sometimes in the middle of the night, I feel as though there were moments I didn’t want to get out,

I was so scared of starting over, of forming a new cycle, of re-learning the normal but never really seeing normal with the same innocence of an un-scarred heart and body,

I was scared of taking a step towards the light and possibly falling in a new darkness I’d have to learn how to navigate all over again,

At least, in his arms, I was safe…

Scarred, but safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t bleed me to death, only a little at a time…

Scarred but well aware of exactly how much time it took to heal

Scarred, but we had our own little world and I could find ‘peace’ in that…

And there are perhaps a thousand reasons I’d give for staying, but I know she’s waiting for you at dinner tonight, so I’ll cut it short…

I just wanted you to know what it was like,

So you wouldn’t think you’re the one, who didn’t do enough or love me enough,

Because when you gave me all the love you could, I wasn’t healed enough to love me

All the scabs on my body may have fallen, the scars smoothed over like new skin again

But the bandages on my heart and spirit were still bleeding and fresh,

All too new for me to remember there is another feeling for me to experience than the cycle I had grown used to…

Maybe next time, I’ll tell you all about how I got out,

Maybe we’ll recount of how far I have come,

Maybe,

But tonight, go show her love…

Kiss her lips and cuddle to sleep

And when you smile in your sleep, think only of her

And be truly, blissfully happy…

cautious to love

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He asked me, again

And I hesitated, again

I can feel him slipping through my fingers, but all I can do is watch the love we have built disintegrate in front of me like a sand castle…

And I’m stuck as the waves hit…

I’m not falling, I’m not running, and I can’t even feel

I want to say yes and the answer is at the tip of my tongue

I want to say yes to all the memories we could make, all the laughter we could share and all the possibilities that the world holds for us…

I want to scream at the top of my lungs so everyone can join in raising a glass to unstoppable love,

But then the memories come flashing back and it’s a wave of tears that I’m trying to stop from falling

As I look into his eyes and the only thing I can see is sincerity

I’m trying to look for malice that I can’t find in the grey depth of his eyes

Greys that swirl with mysteries and promise that I lose myself in by day and by night when he lays next to me

And holds me in arms that promise to shelter me from storms without…

But who can control the storm that builds up inside, almost as if it’s waiting for a sign to break

And it’s been months and months of fighting this urge to create the storm that will eventually destroy us,

And I know that it is unfair

To want him to be a monster, to wait for him to break me so I can have a reason to leave

To want him to walk away when I need him most, so I can have a pain to remind myself of

To want him to hit me back with words, and pain and hurt beyond that which I can hold

To will him into breaking the part of me that’s left standing

So when I lay a crumpled heap of dust again, I can beat myself up for believing in love, again

He asked me, and when every part of my heart screamed yes, and my body leapt with joy that maybe there is another chance for me to feel again what I once felt,

I was stuck again, and my tongue felt too heavy

It’s almost as if I haven’t thought of this moment since I laid my eyes on him

When in truth every single day, I ask myself what I will do when it’s finally here

But I can’t help but feel the tremors rise inside of me,

And the walls are rising again, and I feel myself shrink behind them

My eyes go glassy, I can’t see, but I feel it

It’s as if I’m in a trance and I feel the world falling apart all over again

And I know the time has come again, almost as if this love is no longer a gift but a plague that cursed my heart

I can no longer tell what’s real and what images my mind has conjured

I want to cry to the gods, the universe, and all the powers that be

I want to have the energy to say yes, take another chance and believe that the first, second and third times were just bad luck

But I can still see the first eyes whose ‘sincerity’ broke my heart

And I can still see the bruises on the hands of the second and third men who tried to mend that which was beyond them

I can still see the frostbite on their fingers from the cold that my heart emitted

I can still hear the screams that rose from my throat when I realized what I had become

And so, my words stick in my throat, the tears aren’t allowed to come out, and my mind explodes with a thousand negative possibilities

But how can I tell him

That all his love is misplaced, and I am not who he thinks I am

How do I tell him, that loving me is signing his death sentence and he may not live long enough to sign his will?

How do I tell him, when looks at me as if I hang the stars in the sky?

I will run, I decide

Break his heart and pray he heals…

Because I know this is the last time, that my caution to love will break another’s

And falling for him was my mistake…

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skeletons;

SKELETONS;

The closet is rumbling in the back room and I’m scared because I have kept it locked for quite a while

I think it’s too full now and doesn’t need my help to unlock

I’m scared of all that will fall from it, I know there’s a lot in there

Covered in dust and cobwebs, I might not even recognize some of the things I threw in there

And that scares me,

Because the last time the door broke, I spent months cleaning the dirt off the floor and even longer cleaning the dust off myself,

I’m scared because I might have forgotten how it feels like to have this door break and face the skeletons that lay in the back that I have spent so much time to forget,

It’s a crippled door from falling so many times before, and I know it’ll fall soon

Last time I promised myself I would empty it all and then there’d be nothing left to scare me at all,

And I tried,

But there’s just so much weight in there that there’s not enough light to cleanse the darkness inside,

So much to sort through I haven’t had enough time to think it through,

So much pain bound to make me bleed I have no idea if I can make it through;

So, I built the door to be wider, stronger…hold them hostage a while longer than the last six times they broke through,

Cage them in and strangle the life out of them,

Leave them lifeless and loveless at the back of this cage I have forced

And for a minute there, I thought it was working

For a minute, I felt nothing and I believed them dead,

For a while, I was numb to the pain, and the screams and the constant break-outs at midnight…

But how was I to know that I would go down with them when the time came?

For now, the strength inside of me is drained and I’m drowning by the same waves I set in motion to sink my skeletons

How was I to know that the skeletons were a part of me and all they needed was a little of my time to be heard and understood

To make peace with and to move on from,

So, they could finally lay in peace without the need to get up every two weeks just so I’d break all the work I’ve spent sleepless nights making

How could I have known that all I needed was healing?

And that I could have started by taking the time to listen to the screeching voices inside of my head?

Drowning skeletons;

I’m scared that this time round, I may not be able to rise,

I’m scared that maybe it’s too late for this realization and my skeletons are deprived to the point that if I try to feed the with my time and attention,

That if I try to explain that I didn’t know we all are one in a way and,

That shutting them out and killing them was killing me too,

And that I have finally understood that what we need is a glass of pineapple juice, and a conversation under the stars together,

That maybe we should start by introducing ourselves to each other and knowing where we came from and how we got here

That maybe we should do what we should have done a long time ago; understand why we are here, together,

And maybe from there, we can start dealing with how to move on from here…

I’m scared that it may be too late tonight…

And I guess all I’m seeking is a little reassurance that I’m on the right track

As I sit here, terrified but unable to run

Shaken but unable to turn my eyes away as shards of wood begin to fall from the closet door,

And with every thump against the door, on my heart is a crush

Knowing full well that this time the door will break and I won’t be able to lock it again, ever;

I guess all I’m looking for is the promise that if my heart is too strangled and bleeding from the pain

You’ll be here to help me get through it,

And if my words fail me and my hands are too shaky to set the table for all my caged partners,

You’ll serve the juice under the stars where no one but us is watching,

If only for the breeze to clear the confusion in my head;

And you’ve been telling me to be positive, so if we come out of this,

I hope you’ll help me on a different track

One that leads to new beginnings; for I have already had so many failures I have no desire for more

Teach me to accept more love and give more

Teach me that the world is made of more than just exit signs with neon lights,

And I am the center-piece of the stage, without which the show cannot go on.

Teach me that life is to be loved and lived every moment of every day

And that the sheer joy of being alive is worth every stroke of pain I thought I’d never come out from.

…but breaking down isn’t weakness

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Pain,

A word so familiar yet one so profoundly deep we have just about a million ways that aren’t sufficient enough to explain its meaning…

Its impact…

Its feeling…

It’s reeling effects on our once perfectly orchestrated lives…

So here’s to the pain of loss;

Here’s to the mothers who lost their sons way too early for them to have called them warriors

Yet the battles they rage within could never have been fought so painfully in life and breath

For the magnitude of the pain from the knives that pierce their hearts in the silence at dusk, their sons could not have held in chopping another man’s head off

Here’s to breasts that babies never got to suck and little fingers that never got to touch their mother’s faces

Here’s to nights your baby called you from sleep only for you to wake up to an empty cot that mocks you with cries you’ll never hear…

Here’s to daughters who lost their fathers way too early for them to remember their faces in clear vision

Or the feeling of lying on their chest and looking up to eyes that held compassion a daughter can only know from a father

And here’s to the vain constant search for a love that could take their place…

Here’s to the sons whose mothers left way too early for them to experience a woman’s love

From a woman who will never ask of him that which wasn’t meant to make him better

And here’s to the tears they keep caged in because crying makes you less of a man, so daddy said,

But only because a son’s tears with no mother to wipe breaks a father’s heart in a way only a wife could mend…

Here’s to fathers who lost their daughters before they could hold their hands and boast of their princesses that no man will ever deserve

Here’s to husbands who lost their wives at child birth

And all they have left is the cries of a baby so shrill that the emptiness of the house echoes so loud they have nowhere left to hide their tears…

Here’s to you for holding your mother’s hand when her mother left

But you were too focused on being a shoulder for her that your tears stuck at the back of your throat for a later that has not seen the light of day…

Here’s to best friends who were lost way too early to have experienced the world together and fought battles that only waves could have crashed

And here’s to all the moments lost gazing at sunsets you don’t see ’cause the space beside you is just but empty sand and broken promises…

Here’s to the girl who lost her man after saying I do

And all she was left with was a gaping hole of cold that the diamonds on her finger could not begin to fill and the fluffy coat he got her for her birthday cannot begin to warm…

Here’s to brothers who lost their sisters just when they were old enough to tell them off for threatening boys who as much as breathed the same air as their sisters

 And here’s to the frown that your sisters cannot tease away in that annoying way she knew you used to hate, but now wish you had just one more chance at it…

Here’s to the wounds we have nursed so carefully within us that we cannot let others see how much it takes from us

Here’s to tears we won’t allow our pillows to soak because we have to move on

And here’s to the guilt that we hold so dear when the memories of those we once held dear slip past us

And in the middle of the night, nightmares of forgetting haunt us and rouse us from a sleep we’ve barely managed to slip into

Here’s to nights of hot coffee, cold beers and whiskey burning down our throats, in moments of self-doubt seeking escape at the bottom of a glass and the cold that bites into our bones in the night

And here’s to mornings of make-up to cover up the bags below our eyes…

Here’s to heels and suits and skirts that make us convince the world that we’ve got it all together after fights with demons that drown us in the privacy of our thoughts

And here’s to the smiles that keep us in check when the need to break is all we feel

Here’s to mirrors in the back office bathrooms that we run to, to get our act together before we dazzle our co-workers with impressive presentations

Presentations we came up with under the night sky last night, in an attempt to find a distraction for holes in our bleeding hearts our hands were not big enough to heal…

Here’s to therapists who tried to get you through but you felt like no longer feeling the pain was betrayal to those you once loved

And so you left their office with a bag so full you don’t know how to get it off your shoulders, or if going back is another mistake and so you drown in your thoughts in mundane tasks that no longer feel important…

Here’s to the nothingness that fills your days

Because not feeling is better than breaking from acknowledging pain

Here’s to all the moments you couldn’t break down; because they said breaking is weakness…

But breaking down is strength;

Because getting up is more than what drowned the hope of ever rising

Because breaking down is burning hoping to rise with scars that heal and pains that no longer cause the reign inside your head to break your crown

And breaking down is vulnerability that only souls can understand and shards of broken glass cannot bleed them enough to suck the light out of them

And because breaking down is living a million lives in a moment and still managing to stand tall when all is said and done

And flying, feeling lighter, living…

Breaking down isn’t weakness, so break

And when you have no words for your pain, I got words to explain.

SHE-GHOST-ed

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She’ll keep on coming back into your life no matter how hard you wish her away,
She’ll haunt your dreams when all you need is a little peace in the night,
She’ll call your name in the middle of the street and you will be looking around like a mad man; trying to search for their voice in conversations and the movement of people’s lips,
She’ll be taunting you in the way you see Her walking away with the same spring in Her step that you dreamt about;
And have you running after skirts that rise only for a face to turn and it’s nothing like you were looking for!
You’ll be stopping strangers at the bus stop only to look embarrassingly into their eyes so you can explain how their neck looks like someone’s you once knew,
Then you will pretend it is alright again.
Walking to work and going out on dates Thursday and Friday nights,
Singing the karaoke Saturday afternoons and a beer after,
Church on Sunday mornings and brunch at 12, then family time at 4pm…
Routines as if they will erase the memories you made together, yet all you get are memories that drown your soul!
So you try harder;
Workouts at 5am, showers at 6 am, and breakfast at 7am.
Workday without a break, dinners with the Tv off, and music with both earphones on.
Lunches and poetry parties, not later than 10pm,
Keep away from the keyboard and only read books with war and bloodshed in them…
But still,
How She manages to sneak in when you think you covered all the cracks in the wall, you still don’t understand!

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So it’s time for the men’s club, and you really need them not to talk about their happy relationships and complicated girlfriends; but they do…
You need them to say how the league has been and how useless it is to start a business of selling tuxedos at the corner down the street, for no men ever go there
And you want to be left to wonder how they knew…
But they don’t; its all about them today…

So you skip that, because all you see is how hard it was when She wasn’t there any longer and how hard you wish it could be easier
Maybe, you don’t want it easier
But you are still trying not to look for Her in the women that you take out

and you’re still wondering what you’re doing seating there with an attractive woman too beautiful you question why you found her on a dating site
But then, you want to leave soon, you want to go back to your house and look at Her portrait that you placed on the bedside table
You want to go and imagine that She’s cooking you dinner, you’re setting the table and you shout over the sound of the music to tell Her how good Her cooking smells…
But what you really mean, is that you’d like Her to be done soon, so you can hold Her hand under the table and watch Her lips as She talks and eats and laughs
But you know you can’t, so you smile at the woman seated across from you, and try to remember what it was she said about the pattern of the stars and the way the moon moves on windy nights;
She’s funny and witty and you feel guilty that she so easily makes jokes that you try to be interested in but only end up smiling in silence…
Then panicking when you see Her… seated at the other table with a guy you wish you never have to know
But She’s gone way too soon you only remember Her bewitching eyes and smile
And you can’t erase the sight of panic in your eyes, and in a frantic way but ever so politely say you have to leave
Glasses half full, but at least the dinner plates are off the table,
You want to reach for her hand and assure her that it isn’t her fault you got the look…
But you’re scared because you can feel Her watching your every move
And it’s suffocating to know that She left with no explanations yet, She still keeps you captive in Her arms!
And all you wish for is that She would come back, if only for five minutes, to tell you that you can move on and it’s okay to love somebody else,
All you wish is that She will come back with a red dress so you can see She has other colors than black and it is possible to un-see Her in everyone you see…
You’re scared, but then the world has no time for you to be, and so you fall back into a routine that did not work the last six times that you tried to make it work;
You’re hoping that after all is said and done maybe, the 7th’s time a charm and it’s going to work
But just before day three, when you start feeling comfortable that it’s all going to be okay
She’s back. In black
And Her eyes are sparkling and Her stride is slightly twisted, Her hair is a little shorter
So you now its Her!
And She wants to talk
But you have no idea what She carries within Her bosom nor what it is you should ask Her,
You wonder if She knows that you have called Her back,
You wonder if She knows that She never actually left when She thought She did…
You want all the answers, but now that She’s here
You have no idea where to start,,,

sunrise?

sunset?

midnight?

moon 2

Regression!

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Whenever I see the pictures of you that I saved on my laptop

I wanna stay home all day and stare at them

I wanna hold you close and reminisce about old times

I want to close my eyes and imagine that you are there with me and we talk about the future and we plan on how we will have two kids, twins maybe

I pretend that you holding my hand and staring at the way my lips move while I laugh

I pretend that you hold me by the waists and tuck my hair behind my ears as you catch your breathe and I stare at you

But I know that I’m regressing and I can’t help it and how I lose myself in your eyes.

I need to keep reminding myself that though what we had was unique and meant the world to me

It’s in the past

I need to remember that we had our time and nothing lasting came out our bond

But I know that whatever it is that we had left a mark that lasts

Because I’m still here, months later, typing about how your eyes look against the sun and imagining you sleeping on the plane back to my arms

It’s stupid, and trust me; I know that more than anyone else here.

That doesn’t mean that I forget it, or that I don’t fight not to think about it.

 

But you were right the first time you told me to move on and leave you be

You were right the second time you told me to delete your number because you did not want to be answerable to the mistakes you made

You were wrong the first time you made your move on me and became honest with me

You were right and wrong at the same time when you poured your words in poetic terms so profound that I got lost in the way I felt swimming in a sea of emotions and love I could not accept in the first place

You were wrong when you broke the walls that guarded my heart and broke the barriers half way just so I could let you in and have a taste of freedom and a taste of your warmth.

You were so wrong when you let me dip my fingers in the honey jar then you covered it way too fast for me to be satisfied

You were wrong when you embarrassed me for trying to love you better

You were wrong, and I was right beside you in the quest

 

I sit on my bed in the middle of the night when all the souls are deep asleep and I stare at the ceiling

I create these images in my head where all that we did wrong is no longer holding us back

I create the scenes where we laugh for hours on end and we don’t argue about how we feel

I finish your words and you start my thoughts

We sit with popcorns in our arms and our feet spread out on the carpet and quote words form cheesy movies

We sit on opposite sides of the bed and write poetry and rhymes

I make the food and you serve the wine, I play the songs and you dance to the beat

And we are so caught up in the rhythm that we don’t realize or even care how fast and depressing the world moves

Because, the air is cleaner, the birds are chirpier and even the flowers are brighter

Life and everything in it is better as long as we got each other, we got us.

But as I look up from the photos and open my eyes,

When I think about how I need to shower and choose a dress without you helping me zip it up

When I think about how hot the sun will be and how life is no longer the same without the hope of seeing you when I come back home tonight

 

I break once again

Like the last time wasn’t enough

Like the wounds of yesterday need a friend

Like the bleeding I already suffered hasn’t drained me of enough life and laughter yet

 

I break

 

Chip after shattered chip that I spent uncountable hours trying to piece back together

Crumbling on the floor, staining once again

 

And I’m tempted to turn my back away from this scene

Away from trying to hold on longer and away from trying to heal

Away from trying to keep the barriers down so I don’t lock out the good that came with bringing them down

I’m tempted to see how futile this whole operation is and just shut myself back to darkness like before

 

Scrambling to get the pieces back in my arms before they roll over

I thought I was way past this and I was moving on

But deep down, I knew I was doing what I needed to do and not what I wanted to do

I knew, that deep down, I still hoped that you woke up to the thoughts of me and that the image of me laying on your chest made your heart constrict

I hoped that you still thought of me when you read my poems and I hoped that someday in the middle of the night when you couldn’t sleep, you would call and come looking for me

And I’d pick your call and blame the sleep in my head when I answered even when I knew it was your voice and I shouldn’t have picked up

I’ll blame the fogginess in my head and the slow music that lulls me to sleep and the darkness when I say yes to meeting up with you

I will blame the entire world and the universe for bringing us back together

But I’ll be happy and I’ll screech at the thought of seeing you again and finally having a taste of your lips on mine

 

But then I know that I’m back to being a dreamer and though it’s nice,

I need to wake up from this regression and realize that you’re no longer here and I have to fight the demons or angels that keep on bringing your face in my head

I gotta face the sun and tell my frustrations to my pillows once I’m back home.

I need to go, move on

Just like I’m sure you did.

 

It’s hard that when I want to move on and try to ease the pain

I feel the emptiness creeping in

I want to be at the point where i no longer fell the pain

But I know that the only way out is to full of nothing inside

A shell…

I’m not scared of the pain; I’m scared of the nothingness that numbs the pain

 

It’s hard, but then, what’s the use if it was so easy?

I’m already on my way out

I’ve already been broken and I’m already on walking away terms

Even though you somehow manage to fuck that up too

For love, and a broken heart

reg4

Regression

Stitches of a broken Phoenix

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I fell in love with a soul like my own

Ever since I’ve been fighting battles just to forget

Forget the way he made me feel, the plans we used to make, the promises we never kept and the pain that came from realization that the dream had reached its end

I used to think we’d conquer the world

Best to say I should have had my heart on a leash and my sword on the go

For I couldn’t love him when he did

He couldn’t love me back when I did; and that my heart broke

 

I’ve been lost for years, looking for a reason to disappear

I’ve been hiding for a long time afraid that my face is not ready to reappear

I’ve been holding back because I thought that maybe I was too much for the game

But then I forgot that the streets aren’t made for everybody

And I need my game face on

For I’m not ready to go down with blood in my hands and pity in the people’s eyes

 

Tears and whimpers at three am

Weird thoughts crawling in my head while others sleep in peace

Questions I wish I had answers to, just so I’d quit looking for things I may never find

Battles with demons I didn’t know how real they were or if my disillusioned mind had created

Wishes while looking up, prayers to God, whispers to the wind, messages in the sand

Sessions in the sun just to see if I’d be brighter

Seating under the stars to see if they hear my screams instead

Conversations with the trees, they probably think I’m crazy

Maybe I am; I just can’t help it

My voice getting louder with desperate attempts

My feet walking towards roads I never thought I’d take

And these sleepless nights won’t give me peace of mind

Maybe all I need is a sleep pill or high pill or chill pill, whatever

Maybe all I need is a swim in the river or a gallop on horse back

Damn, if I know how to do any of that

Looking up from down here ain’t the best view

But just because I fell don’t mean I didn’t hurt him on my way down

Broke a couple ribs and said a couple more words

Broke a certain part of his heart, maybe that’s why he the way he is

I’m sorry if I did, hope I he forgives

But maybe that’s all the purpose we were meant to serve each other

And just so we clear, that don’t mean I regret

For I came out stronger, I hope he’s better too

 

Our love was like an explosion- at least on my side it was

For we broke to the world with a thud even mama was worried

It had something to do with how we never held back when we decided to blow

But when the dust settled the destruction was irreparable

Now look

Here we are on different sides of the table

Hear ye all, oh listeners of the midnight cry

Kiss your spouses before their tears drown them

And you left to clean up a mess you never should have had had your eyes been open

 

There was a way I used to sing when he left

‘Open gates even in winter, an open heart even when the knives are pointed

Its bleeding but I just have to learn how to persevere

Maybe he’ll come back home tonight, or tomorrow

One way or another, he has to get back

And when he does, I’ll be waiting

For he needs to know the warmth awaits’

 

We, if ever there was, fought

Sometimes we won, some days we lost

Some nights had stars, some days had storms

Some mornings we laughed, some evenings we drowned

At least, we were

 

But now we sing a different song

We both know that he ain’t the same,

Damn, we ain’t the same either

Life has a funny way of shutting you out, making you bleed, carving your heat right out your chest

Love has a cruel way of leaving you when you most need it

And your soul has an angelic way of reviving when you think you can’t take another beating

But trust me darlin’

Ain’t nothing going to bring you down

Ain’t no chains that will bind you down

And nothing on this earth that will keep you down

As long as you have breathe in you, for you’re a lion

And nothing, and no one in the world can ever take that away

 

Maybe some days your face will face the ground

Maybe some days you’ll think you ran out

And maybe some times you’ll feel like you can’t figure it out

 

Maybe some times you’ll pray for the pain to be lesser

You’ll wish the stitches will last longer and the after-shock shorter

Pray that you never fall again… never feel again

 

But you’ve got remember you’ve been through it all and come out alive

You’ve got to keep your game face on

For the streets ain’t no place for a coward, baby

birds

 

Could you?

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“You can’t marry him,

You can’t trust the food she gives you when you pass by her gate,

You can’t ever listen to what he says,

You can’t ever trust him when it’s dark outside

You can’t open the door to him no matter how hard the storm hits

You can’t listen to the songs they sing

You can’t dance to the music that beats from their house

I can never allow it

Not when I live

Not when I’m dead

Not as long as the sun still sets in the west”

 

But why?

 

“You shouldn’t dress like them

You shouldn’t believe what they say

You shouldn’t be close when they pray

You never should share your story with them

Not how you fought your brother yesterday

Not how much we ate yesterday night

Not how you planning on a new school

You shouldn’t trust anything they say

Not when I live

Not when I die

Not as long as rain still comes from the sky”

 

But why?

 

You keep telling me what I shouldn’t do with them

What I should never say to them

How I should never trust them

When I should never open my heart to them

 

But why?

 

Because their language is different from what we speak

Because their tribe comes from the west and ours on the east

Because they burn their dead and we burry ours

Because their God is Allah and ours Jehovah

Because they pray with their faces down and we pray with our faces up-turned

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Is that why?

 

What if

 

What if I told you that the blood that beats in our veins is the same?

That our minds are made of the same tissue?

That none of us really know whether it’s Allah or Jehovah who answered our prayers for peace when blood flowed instead of water?

What if I told you that he is the man I fell in love with?

Because the person who lies beneath all that exterior is more than his tribe and his religion

What if I told you that she’s the one who took care of my younger sister when my hands and heart bled from a world I couldn’t control?

What if I told you he stood by me when the boys from the street wanted to do more than strike me with words?

What if I told you she’s the one who taught me how to heal and how to love after all I held dear was broken and I had no more faith in me?

What if I told you that keeping us apart is like feeding a fire that burns all of us without separation?

 

What if?

What if I told you that we are all just human beings in spite of our differences?

That our differences are just like different colors of paint and the art is priceless?

That it doesn’t matter where we come from or what we believe in

We all just need food and shelter

We all are just in search of a place to call home

Our souls all just desire a connection bigger than ourselves

We all are just children of the universe and none are better than the other?

 

What if?

What if I told you that we could speak without words?

Sing without voices and see without our eyes

Love without opinions

Live without following rules that have stood for generations

Choose without discriminating on basis of grounds we did not set

And impact without titles that society gave meaning long before or great-great grandparents’ parents were born?

 

What if

What if I told you that were true?

Would you close your eyes to race and height and the accent they speak with?

Could you shut your ears to phrases passed from generation to generation?

Could you be the one to sever the chords and the chains that have bound us for years?

Could you look at things differently?

 

What if

What if i told that what really mattered was what bound us together?

A need to give and receive love

That our humanity holds more power than the hate we have worked so hard to breed in us?

That love is the only thing we should allow to stand between us

That generations to come should never have to choose where or to whom to give this love to?

What if I told you that we are all doves poisoned by the smells we breathe from without?

That really we all are just of one race- the human race?

 

If I would

Could you change?

Would you still tell me not to?

Would your why still stand unchallenged and valid?

 

If I would show you the strength in our hands combined rather than raised against each other

Could you change your view of what should and shouldn’t?

Could you love and embrace the humanity we all are?

Could you?

loove

 

 

 

Escape

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esc3

 

There’s something about escaping into another world that calls unto me

It’s the middle of the day and I just had my lunch

The meal was tasty as hell, the company greater than the meal

But now I’m lying on the floor in my house

Staring

stare

Hoping that if I stay here long enough and stare into nothingness

If I stay perfectly still and try not to think about anything,

I won’t wake up;

Maybe I’ll disappear

Maybe I’ll die… maybe I just won’t ever get up and my mind will have found an escape

 

 

Doesn’t matter if its morning and the sun is up

I should be getting up in pursuit of the pleasures and pains of the day

But my heart… I can’t hear it beat

It’s like it’s calling for a rebellion

It’s appealing to me to stay put, and my body agrees

Mostly because not even my mind has enough strength to command the two

I say, I should probably take a shower, drink lots of coffee and dress up

Maybe some music would be nice in the process

But my muscles can’t move an inch, my eyes can’t open

And there’s this insistent desire to escape and run from this world

I only wish I knew which way to take

escc

 

I’m scrolling through my phone again…

I’m telling myself I should reply to these texts

I should call back; I should ask them how they are doing

I should let them know I care…

But I have no strength to tell them that

And I honestly have no will to explain that I’m not in the right mode to be talking to anyone

That I have this insistent desire to be in a world where they are not

So I tell myself not to worry

I promise them that I’ll talk to them later

Probably in my head, probably when the sun comes up, possibly only when I see them

Because I can’t help feeling that they are a constant reminder that I’m still in this world…

So I throw my phone across the room, don’t care if it breaks or if I can’t afford another one at the moment

I curl myself to a small ball on the floor

Maybe if I pull myself tight enough, the world will forget I was here in the first place

An escape

esc

She’s calling, again and again and again

So I hide my phone under the couch and turn up the music

 

esccc

I want her to think I never saw her incoming call

I want her to think something else happened and I didn’t ignore her calls

After all, I can always come up with an explanation so true she won’t ask twice

I could say I left it at a friend’s house

I could say it got lost when I was rearranging my room and it was on silent

I could say I left my bag at the doctor’s office when I went to get drugs for my roommate

I could even say my boyfriend’s ex took it as punishment since she thought it’s my fault they broke up

But

I don’t want her to know I’m running away, or looking for a way to

I don’t even want her to think that I think like that in the first place…

She must never know that this has happened a million times before

Because she will try to fix it; to help me…

But she did all she could and I still turned out this way

I know no one can help me on this one

Not even her sweet soul that has known me forever

Mama, how can I escape and still stay for you?

escapee

 

Towns…

There’s something about it that I both hate and love at the same time

It’s like a paradox that I never tried to explain in the first place because it probably wouldn’t make sense at all

It’s the noise and the people and the tall buildings that seem as if they stopped midway to heaven

Like they gave up when they thought they’d go on forever

Like they no longer want to try…

 

esc22

You see, it’s the pace and the faces that you see

It’s the ability to get lost in miseries that aren’t your own

It’s the essence of loneliness in crowds and the feeling of being alone in a place so crowded you can hardly breathe

It’s how nobody cares whether you’re drowning or starving or bleeding your heart and bones to death

It’s the notion that the next person is not exactly as human as you are, so please click your heels in place and walk away

Look at them as they scurry away like scared rats and your skinny ass is left to freeze in the dark

 

esca

Sometimes I wonder whether this feeling when I walk the streets is the feeling of souls in hell, or in prison, or in heaven

In the first place, I have no idea whether these place exist

And even if they did, who’s righteous enough to enter?

For all our souls have judged and sinned in one way or another

And then I think…

If these people are the same whose souls will go to these heavens, shan’t heaven be another dimension of earth?

Only different in that our souls will walk the streets the way our bodies walked on earth?

And shall my soul still seek an escape or will I finally have found peace?

escccc

I can’t explain why or how it started

But I can honestly say that sometimes it scares me

That it’s as close to home as it gets

And that the will to fight and push on is not nearly as enough to keep me going

There’s still an overpowering desire that demands I give in…

But I think I’m more scared of where I’ll fall

So I stay here, stuck

Purgatory

purgatory

Stranger in familiar cloaks

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I’m a stranger in cloaks so familiar you don’t notice I’m here till it’s too late

I’m a song with foreign lyrics and a constant beat you don’t find it weird that the tone has changed

In between your sheets, that’s where I lay my head to sleep

I keep you warm when you should be cold

I make you comfortable when you should be fighting

I make you feel like you belong in a world where everyone else has no place

I make you feel okay till you realize too late that okay was a path to your own edge

And when you stand on the cliff’s edge with the only thing standing between you and death being the whisper of the wind

You’ll realize it’s too late to take the turn around

dep22

I come in all forms and fears

A little too many tears today, but don’t worry, there’ll be cheer too

Just to mask the effects, so nobody realizes how to make amends

I know you wish for someone to hold your hand even when you look at them with venom in your eyes

I know you pray, that someone will hear your cries even when you mute or pause the screams

I know you’re waiting for a knock on the door so you don’t pull the trigger or kick the stool from under your feet

I really do, but I also know that the voice in your head while I scream your name and tell you to go ahead is louder than their whispers behind your back and your wishes

But most times, it’s because they don’t try enough

 

 

I know you’re strong, so I try harder

But I got limits, though yours are stronger

You just need a voice of conviction that don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay,

I know if you came together, I wouldn’t have a chance of survival

It’s no wonder I keep pulling you away from them

That’s why I tell you that you need to be alone all along

That’s why I keep convincing you that I’m your best companion

And when you lose, I gain another soul

I have to win this fight, but if you came together…

I’d have to give up

dep1

Sometimes you can sense my presence

But I’m disguised in faces so much like yours you end up convincing yourself I’m only in your head

I know you think you’re losing your mind, but if you knew how much farther I could make you go, you wouldn’t want me in your head

But even when you find me, most still won’t see me

From ignorance and blame games and fights that don’t make sense

Because they are so caught up in being themselves and judging the rest they don’t realize you are sinking out of sight

Believe me, I know it’s such a lonely fight and sometimes even I pray you win

But I’ve got such a disguise, your environment’s so conducive…

I thrive…

dep4

Maybe I’m not my favorite fan, but everyone’s got to live their part

And if bringing you down is mine, then I got to perfect my specialty

But watch, I warn you…

That neither you nor your friends fall for my claws

For they are death covered in red paint, and trust me they’re not scared of blood

Only a determination to win the fight and a promise to hold hands

Only then can my bones break, and I sure pray you win

Before I drain the blood from your veins, and look for solace in another soul so like your own

For I am depression, few say my name out loud.

dep6

crime by a social code

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He pulled at my pants first before he looked to see what I carried deep in my head
I said, well… they say my purpose is to kids,
A new generation and continuation
And he’s a man; forever would he be above me

He touched my breasts with his hands before his words could touch my heart
I thought there was pain where his fingers felt,
But then, husband he would be, satisfying him would be my work
So I let it slide, if he wanted a little rough, that would he get
After all, he was a man; forever would he be above me

He called after how my ass moved, his friends joined
They were more concerned with how my body enticed than how my brain worked
I thought, God, if only there was a chance…
But I smiled at their backhandedness
For they were men, forever would they be above me

He made me lie in the position he liked
He called me out, to satisfaction he desired
Whispered sweet nothings in my ear, just like the first time
But if he really did care, wouldn’t he see how my movements I trim
But his pleasure and assertion into manhood is what mattered more than my heart
After all, he was a man, and forever would be above me

I watched Daddy tell me how good a man should treat me
Then heard how he showed my brother to treat his would-be wife
Setting foot as the man and in no lesser terms, that if violence was needed, violence would he evoke
Then I wondered what my husband’s daddy was showing him, but couldn’t say for fear they’d me slay
For they were men, and forever would be above me

Daddy’s girl set her standards too high; daddy’s words said I should
Then I watched how my mama bowed, even eyes could not meet his
Wondered how I’d ever get grandchildren for mama
If my husband needed daddy’s “respect”
So I pulled down the sheets of silk from the bed, even cotton was a material too good
For I was in search of a man, and he would forever be above me

There was pain in her eyes; that I could see
It wasn’t only in words; it was in how she breathed them
She was my friend, but betrothed to a man whose mere existence made her cringe
With a smile on my face and tears in my heart, told her she needed to be strong
I thought, God, if only I could kill him with my bare arms
But he was a man, and forever would be above me

Now, I sit and think of a daughter I have dreams to bear one day
I fight the men who in me see nothing
They say I’m too much of a dreamer, too much intelligence, they call it
But my pace have I set, neither shall I slacken…
And if they think I’ll pause to look back at what I’ve faced and falter, they’re wrong
For I seek not a chair higher than men, just an equal partner in life’s hurdles

Society will call me weak; society will think I’m stupid
But if I in no man find one who can fulfill my dreams, then strong am I till the very end
For myself I’ll need the respect, and in my children shall my dreams thrive
And if by no example shall I set for them, then I’d rather not they came at all
For I seek not a man who rules over me, rather, one I wouldn’t mind my son being

It’s dumb, they’ll call out
To resist ways that have existed for millions of years
But I say, even then, they had a beginning
So even though the last days are here, I won’t fall short of my own faith and fight
That a little change goes a long way, and society begins with me
So if I say, a generation where respect and standards are withheld starts by me and my kids
Then I shan’t be scared to say, man and woman shall be partners in life
I shall fight, in no lesser terms than where my heart beats stronger

 

girl in the mirror

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She’s looking at me through the mirror that I am looking through

I can see her eyes in the glass panes.

Am supposed to see through the glass

Instead, I see her eyes… through her eyes

She’s haunted; I can see it in them

She’s scared… she looks at me with that superstitious look

I feel like I know her

I know that look, those eyes…

I know that feeling… it’s like we have a psychic connection

I know the way she’s taking a sip of water, that movement

I know those straps on her shoulder, they are not just small

No, I know the shape of her shoulder blades and that’s how I know what she’s wearing beneath

I know that ring on her finger and the bracelet on her arm

I know the way she places her hand on her shoulder to lean her head on it

I know the way she bites her lower lip when she’s lost in thought.

I can almost bet she has a beauty spot on the inner side of her right thigh

I know her; she looks so familiar, so painfully familiar that when she blinks my eyes automatically blink with hers

I know she’s hurting and I feel like she can see through this façade I have set up

This empty feeling, I feel like she knows it too

It’s like she’s trying to ask me a question, “Why do you die so easily?”

She wants to know what makes me weak in the center of my being

She wants to know why I believe I can’t fight yet I still have breathe in me…

But she’s scared of the answer…

And she scares me too…

I feel vulnerable when I look through her eyes, and I can’t see anything beyond that haunted look in her eyes…

I feel like I should help her, but I don’t know how to do it…

She wants to come closer, I’m afraid if she does, she won’t understand…

I’m trying to bring up the bars, get some distance… but am stuck here, staring into her painfully look-alike personality

I’m stone cold, and her eyes make it even harder…

I try to pull my gaze from hers, and her wild unkempt hair catches my breath

It’s almost like fighting her is futile

It’s almost like she has some spiritual power over me…

I’ve lost my physical feeling and the only thing I am aware of is the move of her hand as she tries to reach out to me and grab the back of mine

The way she moves, almost as if she’s afraid, almost as if she’s unsure almost as if I’m dangerous

The way she moves, almost as if she doesn’t really wanna do this, like she’s being forced.

Almost as if it’s the necessity that keeps her going…

And am just glued here to the spot…

This weird psychic connection between us…

She’s inner me…

This girl in the mirror is my soul…

 

Goodbye?

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If this is goodbye, then I’m not ready to take it

If this is where our paths go two different ways,

Then I’m stuck at the junction and my feet feel made of steel

I’m torn, and my heart bleeds from two streams

A part of me stretches to leave with you

A part of my heart is strong to stay

But the fight is draining my blood and my will to live against the pain

I used to say that pain is the reason why we stay alive, even though the promise of its lack thereof gives us reason to fight to stay alive

But if loss of pain meant losing you, then I’m not ready for the promise just yet

 

I keep hoping it’s a dream, I keep hoping I’ll wake up… and I keep waiting for you to tap me on the shoulder and tell me to wake up

But it’s been dawn and dusk and click of the locks and the curtain shutters

And my sheets are still white and empty of your touch

The days, I’m counting=g by the tick tock of the clock on the wall

 

I want to talk, so I tell my pillow

She knows all about you, by words and touches, squeezes and hugs, tears too

She knows your smell, for your twin told her about you when you left

I know it’s a stupid thing, to hope for what seems impossible,

But when they told me to love, they also said that love was freedom,

Freedom to be heard, freedom to be listened to, freedom to hope against all hope… freedom to just be you

I didn’t know that this freedom had limits, I didn’t know that someday id be at the end of the rope, and I didn’t know I’d be hanging at the edge just ready to let go

Maybe, this love was an illusion

 

I told you I was happy

I gave you my heart and my love

Maybe I should have known it was my body you worshipped

I was no goddess of wisdom, neither of fertility; forget the fact that I was nowhere near the title of goddesses

So how could i?

 

I’m counting the days till I’m able to get up

Same way I counted the nights till I was ready to admit to your love

I’m hoping it takes shorter to walk away than it did to say yes to your love

 

Maybe it was you crafty hands; maybe it was your art with your honey-dripping voice

Maybe it was all that and so much more

And my heart still beats a little faster at the mention of your name

Maybe it always will

But I’m hoping I can do away with the pain

I’m praying that I can hold your love in one hand without the clouds of darkness towering over me

Then maybe, I can smile a genuine happiness when I meet you in the next life, or tomorrow, or maybe next week

 

I told my heart to cry a little longer, scream a little louder, try a little harder.

So when I tell her it’s time to fight and be us again, she won’t say I didn’t give her time

For it was her idea to love you, and to fight for you

And I love her all the more for it

But now she knows what it is I was running away from, same way she knows what it is I was missing

So we’ll stand side by side, and we’ll fight the way we always did,

Even when the clouds are grey, we’ll dance on a little stray

When we’re ready to say goodbye

Slaves of Ourselves

Kenya received it’s independence in the year 1963.Till today it’s never served as a country that gained it’s independence.Starting from the country’s agricultural sector, the music industry, the education and even bussiness sector.

We are a developing country yet we borrow from outside countries to a point where even the unborn babies owe the foreign countries money.Research has it that Kenyans borrow up to   Ksh 787milion from fuliza every year.This is to show just how much the countries economic levels are low and how unindependent we are.

Corruption has and will continue to serve as one of the country’s greatest monsters against development.Rules are broken, lines are crossed, just because a person somwhere has been bribed.Quiet unfair.Employers and leaders fail to answer the question”why should a student work so hard day and night to get themselves good papers only for them to be outdone at job opportunities by other students who are from well-off families” BRIBE.

Murder and suicidal cases have become the second anthem of the country.Family members would now gang up to end another family member only for them to gain from that person’s riches.A man would lynch his own brother just because his brother was successful and he was not.Due to frustrations of not having something to give her children,no husband to depend on,no job to earn money from a mother would assassinate her four children and then kill herself.A husband would wake up one morning and end his wife’s life because she used his 10,000 shillings  for house shopping without telling him.Like it’s alljust a game .

Alcoholism has now become a norm and a way of life for quite a huge percentage of Kenyans today.Drugs are slowly killing the youths leading to hopelessness of a better tomorrow.Some say that they use these drugs in order to forget or at least get away from the true facts of them not having anything to call their own.Others even lose their lives in the process.

We should work together,build the Nation,be fair and just.Respect each other and with this we shall definitely create a better tomorrow for the generations to come.Above all let’s  pray to God for a better Kenya.

NEWS WRITTEN AND EDITED BY :

RUTH WAMBUI IGAMBA

perfect-ion

Perfection…

Perfect,

You’ve got me thinking I need to be perfect and I know you’re lying when you say I don’t need to be

I know you don’t mean it, because I have seen how you react when I trip on my heels

I have seen how weirdly you look at me when my dress is an inch shorter than it should be

And that’s maybe just because I’m an inch taller than I was last month,

But you don’t remember that I’m growing, do you?

Hell, maybe I actually told the tailor to make it that way, who cares?

After all, imperfect is okay, right?

So I smile when you say that, and I say I understand

I say I know you’d love me anyway, I say I know you wouldn’t judge me either way and you’d still have my back

I smile and tell you I know you wouldn’t take me any differently even if the rest of the world did;

But I know it’s a lie.

I know and I hope you see that the smile doesn’t reach my eyes , the conviction is lacking in my voice and my hug is not as warm anymore;

I know that all the assurances I give you are just another tick in your list of perfection, and I must never mess it up

I must never let my hair be too unkempt, just a little fashionably unruly

I know I mustn’t sneeze too hard or wear too much make-up

Hell, I must wake up looking like a pretty doll if you ever have to see me in the morning before my shower

And so when you lie in the room next to me, I can’t fall asleep for fear that you’ll catch me off guard

I know it’s a lie, what you say

So I no longer wear shoes that are an inch off the ground just in case I twist my ankle

I don’t sing as I cook anymore because you think I sound crooked

I don’t cry, I don’t sweat and I never ever walk in the sun just in case the ice that’s guarding my heart starts to melt and I no longer know how to be perfect

I no longer wear pajamas on Saturday mornings or go over to “dumb” parties on Friday evenings

“You don’t have to be perfect, you’re human

You can and will fall, you will break sometimes, and that’s okay”

That’s all you ever say, but I know that’s a lie

Because when I broke, you told me to suck it up and not make a big deal out of nothing

I know it’s not, because when I was freezing out cold and just needed a hand on my cheek to remind me to breathe

You locked me out in the wind and told me I was being dramatic

And so in fighting the cold, we became friends with the ice,

The ice that guards my heart,

I sucked it up, just like you said

So, if I can no longer be human and smile with as much girth as I used to

Worried that someone might misinterpret that as an invitation to hold my hand

Show me a little love, a little warmth that makes me feel something

If I only break at 3am on Saturday morning on the bathroom floor with no one around

Almost like a ritual that I follow faithfully

Scared if I break it, I may not be able to stand up straight on Monday with dry eyes;

If I only wear neutral colors just so I don’t mess up my look with too much color

Scared that if I tried, the colors would show too much of the bruises you left in my heart

And no amount of red lipstick and fake smiles will be able to cover up the damage

If I only eat salads at parties and half a glass of champagne

Scared if I gain an extra pound, the imperfection may prove your dreams have shattered

And I may not be able to recover from the wrath that befalls from your lips

You can judge me all you want, it doesn’t matter…

I hope you remember

I hope you’re proud of the perfection I have attained

I hope you remember and I hope you’re proud of this statue you have created

Slowly.

One step at a time, I am losing me.

My soul…

Everyone is telling me I should try and get myself back

All the writers have compounded the best methods for me to break these chains you hold so tightly against my ankles and my body

But I think that the constant death from breaking is poetic justice

For only in my mind do I dare hope that I can be free from what I have become

For only in poems I will never let the world see, do I dare to break

And if I die by the strokes of the pen, none of us won

The warrior says I should fight, because nothing good comes easy

And only by losing and falling and being bruised can I win this game

But I have been broken far too many times I no longer think I have it in me to pick a sword

I have grown so used to the snow I don’t know what I would do with the sun on my skin

So, is breaking again a good thing?

Besides, haven’t I already fought enough to build and keep this wall of ice from breaking already?

My therapist thinks I should try,

But I’m beginning to question that too

I’m in search for answers I may never find

For as much as you broke me, I’m scared that if I get out of this brokenness

I am no longer aware of who I am

This pain is comfortable,

Cold, but only in the freezing do I find warmth

The believer gives me a little hope

And maybe I will listen

For in those moments on Saturday’s dawn when I allow myself to glimpse at a pain buried so deep within

I see the broken pieces of me that are still struggling to live

Believing that they still have a hope to fight and win

I’m shutting that door way too fast

For the torrents and waves and storms behind could drown me

Overwhelm me…

And I’m not sure I am strong enough to handle what damage they cause

It’s Tuesday,

And I’m off schedule, showing my bare heart to the world like I shouldn’t

Maybe next Saturday, I’ll flip these pages again

Decide…

baby, won’t you pick up?

I feel so broken and no matter what I try to do, I keep sinking deeper and deeper in despair

Tell me you love me, or maybe just pick my call

I don’t know if you’ll mean it, but for tonight I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t

At least that would be a start

 

I’ve been standing by the phone, hand on the receiver waiting for your call, but it’s not coming

Its 2 am and I haven’t had my shower yet

Counting the minutes but I think its hours now, they already turned to days

Rushing to the showers and the water runs down my face

Comforting my tears, soothing my heart

And the lather smells so much of lavender, but all I smell is tears and a broken heart

Falling to the ground and screaming out your name

Against the wind and the miles between us, can you hear the pain inside of me?

 

I think you’re a little broken too,

But that’s why I’m here, so I’ll hold your hand when your knees grow weak, and your heartbeat slows

Baby, what are you doing, pushing me away?

 

I want to come to you, but the ocean separates us,

And my wings ain’t strong enough to fly to you too

Baby, I want to hold you close; can you let me in just an inch deeper?

I promise I’m not perfect, and I hope that’s what it takes so you know I understand what it’s like to need someone

Or to just be needed?

 

 

I’m taking coffee on the balcony

And the wind whispers your name,

It’s a private moment, just me, the wind and the trees talking

My mug keeps us company, she hears our little conversation

Your face is next to mine, and I can feel your breathe on my neck

I look around, I smell your cologne, I hear your laughter,

But like a mirage, you’re gone just when I’m moving closer to your chest

Why won’t you let me touch you?

 

There are no chairs so I’m seated on the kitchen floor,

I’m tempted to call you, like every other day when you won’t call back

But my heart is in so much pain I’m scared I’ll tear up when you don’t pick up

And I keep going back to our last conversation, wondering what I did wrong

Can you show me how to hold you right?

Because I’m tired of crushing you when my intention is to give you warmth

Won’t you pick up my phone?

 

I’m trying,

My friends told me I’ll be better tomorrow

But how can I forget you when everything I see reminds me of you

When I can’t see any other guy because they are not you?

I’m fighting not to shed these tears at the back of my eyes, but I’m losing the battle and I can’t see why I’m fighting anymore

I’ve been trying not to do the things that remind me of you, but now I see I’ll have to borrow someone else’s life

No more coffee and music, no more walks at night, no more sand in my shoes and dreams

I’ll have to say goodbye to novels and intelligent arguments that take me back to your passion

I’ll have to give up my life, and trust me I have tried

But you are always here wherever I turn, and my mind and my heart won’t let you go

 

There’s a rock in the corner of the field close to where I live,

And I’ve been counting the days till I can take you there,

Maybe in the passing sounds and silence, you’ll learn another piece of me,

Now I have to go and explain why it’s taking too long to keep my promises

I hope in her cold stone, she’ll understand you’re still a heart of gold

And maybe tell me what to do with you

Baby, won’t you pick up?

For before we were lovers, we were friends

you should have married her instead

Morning rush finds me in a rush, so it doesn’t hit me as odd that it got such a name

I’m always ready by the time it hits; forget the fact that marriage gives me a chance at morning glory

I got lunches to pack and breakfast to make

I got shirts to iron and shoes to polish

I’ve got my hair to make and showers to run for three,

No, make that four, because your one of them

I no longer have time for makeup, but my tired smile is what lights up my face

Eight on the dot and the hoot’s out my locked door

Kids, it’s time for school,

Hurried goodbyes and kisses in the air, my heart breaks to another day

I’m always running, no time to sit and have a chat

But I’ve become so good at it I can relate three different stories to three different beings while brewing coffee, frying the bacon and feeding baby Mary

But you’re no longer interested in the stories I make, and it pains, for you used to hang on to every word I said

I suppose, I didn’t try enough, maybe there was no point in trying anyway,

Because I found out about her, and the late nights at work, the unscheduled flights,

About why it is you always too tired when you get home, and even a backrub and a glass of wine in the bathtub is a wasted effort on my part

So I tell my stories to an eager audience, as they gulp their breakfast in mesmerized curiosity,

They think mum is an angel, they don’t understand why daddy doesn’t give her a morning kiss anymore

So I tell them daddy’s busy, and they’ve grown cheeky

They miss you, at the head of the table with your fables,

We used to make a great team, now I think it’s time I played it alone

And when I look at myself in the mirror, I see her

I see her in parts of me that are incomplete, in the imperfections that I’ve got

I try to see what I lack, so you found it in her

I used to tell myself she’s prettier, that she’s got a body like a goddess, and a smile that makes you topple

I won’t lie, I think she still does

But three kids out of my womb and I’m not as flat as I used to be

And let’s just say, I didn’t make them on my own, neither did I coerce you to

But I thought you wanted a homemaker, not a home-wrecker

I thought you wanted a partner, and I thought you said I fit

Now, I think that was just another business deal, and the terms have been revised

Only I no longer hold the powers to object anymore, equal partnership is gone

I used to blame myself, and then I remembered I’d been a good wife to you, and a great mom to my kids

Mary just started speaking, her first word was mommy, her second word was smile

I just thought you should know, because every parent hopes at least daddy would be second

Look, I know a family report is not what you thought you would be reading by now, and maybe what you desire more is her arms on your chest, and her eyes on you

Or maybe her cooking smells better and her bathroom is full of her scent, and that makes you want to bury your face in her hair

All I’m saying is, if you thought I wasn’t fit enough for you

You should have married her instead…

There was no point in making vows you had no plan to fulfill, and none in making me have to lie when you wouldn’t be in for the long haul

I heard you look at her with stars in your eyes, how stupid I was to think that was ‘our thing’

I think she’s touched the scar under your left arm on your rib

I thought I’d be first and last to do that

I remember how we used to say that was where God took your rib from, and that I was the only one who had a right to know about it

We used to laugh and cry when we told the story,

Now I cry with a bitter laugh that catches at my throat

I gave you my love, thought I had your heart too

Seems I should have asked, exactly how much of it, it was that I got

Look, if you think she hung the moon, why didn’t you call her all those nights to mourn

Or did you?

Why did I hold your hand, why did I wipe your tears?

Or was that just another act, for your knew my weakness?

Mama says divorce is profanity, but I haven’t told mama about her

So she can also say, adultery is profanity, so is treating your children with less love than they deserve

I’ve got to go; Mary wants to run in the sand,

Toby and Izzy want me to say whose sand castle is better

And I still haven’t explained why the sun is about to set again and daddy is still in a meeting

“Is it that long and can’t daddy tell them that he is flying away and will be back?

Isn’t that what you say, mommy? That family is the most important thing?”

That’s a question for Daddy, but Mommy has to give all the answers

So forgive me when I say, you should have married her instead.

 

 

 

 

 

Not my choice, but silence to learn…

I’m a pretty emotional soul, but I’ve learnt to fight back my tears

I was born a quiet girl, but I’ve grown to be loud

But then, I was never loud about my heart or my feelings,

And I’ve grown to be silent and teach my heart to beat more quietly

I never knew how to say what’s on my mind, but only when it came to tears that fell within

Please don’t judge me, and it wasn’t my mother’s fault either

 

I was busy healing wounds and scars I didn’t incur

I was busy wiping tear marks with smiles that blinded the sun

They say I’ve got a bright smile, even with mismatched teeth and imperfect lips

I know, deeply, its years of practice

I used to hate it, till I realized it was my saving grace

 

My heart beats too loudly, sometimes too fast

But I’ve learned to calm it, calm it so no one will notice and question

My life is made of patterns,

Patterns that I save on the barks of trees and skies at night

So the searchers of daylight will not find

And crawlers at night won’t know my darkness in sunlight

 

I’m like a vampire; I come out at three am

Only, my soul doesn’t thirst for blood, but a respite from the chains that cage her in voices calling for morning light and deceitful insight and masks of dark knights

 

I’ve learnt to be quiet and hide my tears

It’s always been easy to have my cries unheard and my ways unknown

Please don’t judge me; it’s not my sister’s fault either

 

They were times I wished I could talk

But my tongue has become so heavy I have no idea how to lift it anymore

There were days I wished I could cry out loud

But the crunch of my heart beneath my own boots and against the concrete made me realize I couldn’t

There were times I wanted to tell the tales of heartbroken stains

But the pain of other people’s claims kept me in chains

I found healing in other people’s feelings

I found purpose in other people’s smiles

They said I was selfish by wishing to hear of other people’s pain

They didn’t know I sought healing of things I was too ashamed to acknowledge as pain.

They didn’t seek to understand; neither did I give them a chance

I’ve learnt the silent way of life, to understand myself by the beat of my heart,

To know my voice by the twitch of my eyes, and to understand my pain by the catch in my throat

I’ve learnt how to relax when my heart constricts so it doesn’t burst, how to hold my breathe so I don’t scream, how to close my eyes so tears don’t fall

And how to shun my brain so thinking doesn’t drag me down

And my heart has become an expert mask that covers my soul from the cruelty of the world.

 

There are times I have desired a hug, just to pull me together and feel like I got it

But I never had the courage to ask

There are times I have wanted to sleep cuddled in another’s arms

But I was too scared to voice it loud for fear they’d call me pervert

My God, there were times I just wanted to scream and make it all go away

To let it go and forget that everyone was listening

There were times I just wanted the light to disappear and the weight of my breathing to leave my lungs

To just sleep and never wake up

And even though I say I’m free from all the chains of my past

I know that my soul is far from it

Because she’s still scared and afraid and lost sometimes

She’s still trying to find a place she can grip

Still lost in ways and paths she doesn’t know how to come out of

My soul is still a timid she, who thrives within but lacks courage to shine

Dear me,

I am sorry to my soul.

 

for all the souls that have known pain, this one’s for us

 

 

For troubled souls, you are not alone

Deafening Silence

Noisy M!nd 💭

Deep inside me,
I heard it,
The roaring and groaning,
A sad cry,
Deafening as it was,
Only I heard it,
It really was lonely,
And all of its cry,
Shrills down the spine,
It really felt physical,
Yet all but a sound,
From deep inside,
A silence so loud,
An angry dark cloud,
Roaring in the night,
Seems am awake all alone,
Only I heard it,
Deep inside me.

Into the mudpool I sink,
Or is it quick sand I think,
But I can’t even blink,
Scary it feels,
It might all be gone,
All in a snap it feels,
Everything gone,
My dignity,
My emotions,
My humanity,
My conscience,
All screwed and scrambled,
In my depression I crumbled,
Death notes penned down,
A mind stampede,
A thought suffocation,
That’s all for an eulogy,
Then comes the apology,
Anyone and everyone,
Yet alive I struggle,
In my destitute,
Shame…

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Letter to my Best friend

I found my heart broken, didn’t matter that I broke it myself

I found myself drowning, never mind the fact that I walked into the swamp by myself

I was falling and losing my breathe

Losing control and the desire to have it

Failing in all but the sight to keep walking into this trap I set for myself

I was dying but camouflaged it so well no one realized

I have to say that running away kept me alive when I wanted to die

I didn’t know what vulnerability to be strong meant

But I sure as hell knew how with pain it went

I didn’t know what giving a part of your soul to another without expecting something in return meant

Until I met her

 

She was a puzzle, more likely to be left unsolved and undiscovered than the world desired to find

My God, and she was beautiful

She had a smile, and a laugh that was infectious, with eyes more intimidating than the sun

She had a soul with mysteries she wouldn’t tell,

And through my darkness, she saw a light

Holding my hand, looking directly in my eyes when I wanted to look away and run

Run, afraid of looking back and finding that she was a mirage and would be gone when I looked back

Clutching on to me when I wanted to free myself from her touch, scared that she was just a fragment of my imagination and would disappear the moment I opened my eyes

Sat with me all night long and talked about everything and nothing, when all I wanted was to clutch a book in my bosom and read of fairy tales that made me desire to be in them but all the while knowing I couldn’t

She was there, when I least expected her to be

 

When I was out trying to be a hero to everyone else, she was there being the angel that shone my light

She was the one who filled my drained energy in moments of clutching my pillow and filling it with unshed tears of failed trials

She wasn’t scared or disgusted by my darkness, but I was scared that she’d be gone by morning light

And my God how I wished she’d be gone sooner than later, so I’d have less tears to shed and little heartaches to nurse

By morning, when I opened my eyes half-drunk with the sleep from the night, she’d be smiling like she knew the secrets of the world

And she’d call to me with a look that said,” Go shine your light again, I’ll be with you whatever it takes”

 

She says she’s impatient, but I found patience in her

Patience in loving me when I pushed her away

Patience in standing by me when I wanted her gone

Patience in believing I was worth it when I gave her no reason to

 

She said she didn’t know how to love, but she was the reason I fell in love with myself and embraced the scars that I dared not to even look at within myself

She did kick my ass, when I need it more than a hug

She was real with me, when everyone else just smiled and said it’s going to be okay

It’s like she always knew when I needed what, and sometimes I swear, I thought she was into magic

 

I found my heart broken and torn to pieces

I found myself unwanted by the very soul that loved me

And through it all, she drained the tears that I wasn’t going to shed in public

She made me know it’s okay to be weak and give in sometimes

It’s okay to cry and break down and forget what it is to have your head up high

It’s alright when you don’t have all the answers and the courage to say no

She said that no darkness could dim my light

And I believed her, for in her, that’s all I saw,

Love and light

 

I found my heart broken and left to die, wailing for someone to hold and hear just a line

But when I found her, she made me know that smiling could heal

She made sure that I danced when I wanted to sulk

She made me live when I was on the verge of giving up

And when I had nothing to hold on to

She reminded me that the crown on my head was something worth fighting for

And that being a queen required me to be strong

And now, when I look at her, I see the golden side of me…

My best friend.

 

 

 

Things I want to tell you

There are many things I would like to tell you
But I can’t find the words
I want to say I love you, but I’ve said it before
I want to say you mean the world to me
I want to say that the world is ours only if you’ll hold my hand
I want to tell you that what I want is this life in my head to come real
I don’t want our past here, no
I just want you and we can go back to the drawing board
And we can make smart moves on the chess board
And we can flip another page of our manual and buy new paintbrushes
I’ll bring the paint you bring the pages
We’ll swim in the art we conceive
We’ll dance in the rain we paint
Just let me be yours, let us paint when we no longer have the confidence to dream
Let us cry when our mouths have no strength to smile
Let’s make promises again, because in the pain, I see your face, and it makes me forget
Give me another chance to hold you, in real life, I beg
I don’t want to regret, for letting you slip through my fingers
And when I still have breathe in my lungs and sight in my eyes,
I want to say all these things to you
I want to tell you that I miss you
That when you’re not here, there’s a gap that doesn’t fill
I want to say that I want you in my arms
That whenever I think of you choosing me, I’m scared you’ll choose another
I need you here, because I want to make sure that I’m not dreaming
I want to see your eyes and feel your heart beat
When you say you choose me, you choose to love me; you choose to hold my hand
I don’t know how to hold a guitar, let alone play it
I don’t have the courage sometimes to say what I want or what I stand for
I’m not the most beautiful girl on the sidewalk,
I’m just an amateur writer
And my voice breaks when I sing…
I don’t understand you sometimes; I don’t usually know what to say
I don’t usually have ideas when you need them
And sometimes, I’ll run away when you need me to stay…
But I want to hear you say that despite all this you’ll still choose me
I’m loud, and sometimes I don’t listen
I’m jealous and sometimes I won’t understand,
I break, and sometimes even your touch won’t heal no matter how hard you try
But I need to hear you say that you won’t stop trying, you won’t let me go
There are still things that I want to say to you
Promises my heart wants my mouth to say
That I won’t leave, that I won’t stop loving you
That even when I run away, I promise I’ll be back
That even when we fight, I promise to still listen
That even when the whole world thinks we shouldn’t go on,
I’ll still hold on…
That I’ll love you no matter what, I’ll chose you, all day, all the way
And I always will
That I won’t break your heart,
And that you by my side, is more than I deserve
For you’re worth more than I ever could give
But my heart is all I have
My love is everything I own
So I give it to you…
Please come to me,
For things I want to tell you
And let me hold your gaze when I do