Posted in crush, love, Poetry


It’s not even midnight,she’s by the balcony slowly sipping her tea. Tea is never hurried,she knows that and has perfected the art of chai-taking. Her mind is wandering like it does most times. She has painted easels better than The Mona Lisa in that beautiful mess of hers. She has scaled heights within her mind prison but that is not where she has run to this breezy evening.

white ceramic cup
Photo by Saif Selim on

You are the reason,
I can’t lie any longer,
Everything points to you,
The smile on my face,
Thoughts in my head,
All of that is you.

When I look into your eyes I feel things. Could this be that puzzle called love?

She is in his maze right now. Him. People like him did not fall for her. His lips could be explored every single second with every X marking a new treasure spot. When they form that smirk that sends her on the brink of insanity.She should get out of there now, the waters are getting stormy but there is his smile, his physique,his voice… “Snap out of it,Carmen!” she scolds herself and walks back in to refill her cup,she drops a couple of shots with her tea and settles on the couch.

aerial shot of maze
Photo by Tom Fisk on

Hell to heaven be my escape love,
Turn on the lights in the dark,
Turn on my heart it’s been blank.

Let my hands travel up your back,
As my lips trace your neck,
Let me breath in your scent.

She goes back to the kiss, the one that turned her into Shakespeare with a pinch of Lord Byron and a whiff of King Solomon. It’s barely midnight and she thinks of the moments  so vividly and she sighs, “Oh boy!  What I’m I going to do with you? Wait for midnight and then invade my senses and ensnare me till daybreak.” The door bell rings,her delivery is here time to meet her nightmare.




Posted in Chronicles


Could you spare that look?

Spare it for our daughter,

Let it be her reference,

That men can be amazing.

baby approaching men s black sunglasses
Photo by Biova Nakou on


Would you impact our son?

Teach him to be a man,

Not a man to build his ego,

But a man you can entrust your daughter to.

man and boy standing on bridge
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Could you tell her?

Tell her she is enough and will always be,

Please remind her for me,

She is precious and loved.

girl holding dandelion flower
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Hold his hand and take a walk,

I hope you and him will talk,

That no means no,

Rejection is not the end of life.

light sunset people water
Photo by Negative Space on


Teach our kids the truth,

That perfection is false perception,

Not all prizes are worth pursuing,

That humanity can be messed up and lack sanity.

black and white boy child childhood
Photo by Pixabay on


I hope they never get to change,

I hope they find love and all its joys and aches,

I hope they don’t have to look over their shoulder,

I hope the world becomes a better place.

children sitting on ground
Photo by Gabriele Mango on

Our kids will feel like they belong,

No worry or fear of the beasts and predators,

I pray they find peace again,

I hope they look in the mirror and feel confident.

woman walking behind toddler
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Dear baby daddy,

I hope they don’t sink in toxicity,

Our kids will be different,

That’s all I hope for love.

person writing on white paper
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Twisted Empress 2019

Posted in Chronicles, love, mental health, Poetry, Random


If Teddy could speak,he would have quite the tale. If he could write,he would have a bestseller in all the countries. He knew so much yet he couldn’t share it with a single soul.

Teddy was big, not fat just large and fluffy. He was pristine,an angel without a halo. He existed when everyone else had ceased to make sense. Sense. What was sense anymore?

He watched her come in through the door sometimes with droopy eyes, other times with energy that would light the whole world up for decades to come.

The good days were rare like snow storms in Africa. He longed for them,craved them worse than a drug addict.

There were nights he wanted to hide,cower in fear behind the orange couch. Nights when she went wild,a stormy wind that left a trail of destruction behind it. She wielded a small knife but in her hand it could as well have been a Samurai’s sword. She created a canvas on her body and painted it with crisscrossed lines. Sometimes Teddy would get paint on his fur,she’d say it was a lipstick spill. She never owned any red lipstick in her life.

Other nights they danced,she held him and they twirled,wiggled and jiggled. Her laugh would be musical,blending with the night and bursting into a million fireworks. She had a beautiful laugh. Such nights,Teddy wanted to hold her in his arms and keep her there.

He learned to read her,the little cracks and the minute triumphs. She was his as much as he was hers. Her refuge maybe. At times,she’d just hold him till he felt his body going limp. He would have liked to tell her he won’t leave but he couldn’t speak.

If Teddy could speak,he’d say that she was a fighter,a lover and most importantly she mattered. If Teddy could speak he’d say, I love you.

Posted in crush, discover WordPress, love

Butterfly Fly

I should have left your name in the pages of my diary because then I would still be sane. I am not saying you drive me crazy but I am sure I  knock a few nuts loose in your system. I am not easy to love that is what my mind tells my heart. I don’t know maybe you could change that but I am scared. Scared that I might be the only one swimming upstream.

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Photo by Pixabay on

I replayed the feel of your lips on mine and blushed redder than a berry ripe for picking.  All this feels foreign like fish on land. I don’t know how to act, I forget how to breathe in a way that I am gasping for air every single time. I need a doctor, my heart is beating harder than it ever did. I am sweating gallons in here.

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I wish I had the honesty of a five year old maybe then I’d freely share my mind with you. How do I explain all this without feeling like a fool? I never understood how this would come by. Forgive my blutter, there’s a lot of clutter in my head and nonsense on my lips. Shut me up please in the way only you can.

silhouette photo of man and woman kissing
Photo by Hoang Loc on

You take me around  the world whenever you speak. Tell me if I am good enough, look at me seeking validation again, pitiable I know. Could you indulge me on level ground please? Eye to eye with gazes that don’t falter. Our lips could even meet as the anger, desire and all animal instinct simmer at our tips.

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You could tell me why you hate what I say. You could show me what I need.  You could be the strength I need. I don’t want to push you away. It’s my head, my thoughts are screaming bloody murder. My heart wants you.

heart shape white and black i love you printed decorative board
Photo by Artem Beliaikin @belart84 on

Butterfly fly before you drown in the darkness of the garden. Stay where the sun shines upon the flowers and the air smells like a dash of heaven on earth. Maybe you could choose to stay and light this world of mine up because that would cure it all.  If you leave my life would fall apart.

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Photo by Pixabay on



Posted in Dear Diary, discover WordPress, love, mental health, stories


I don’t know how to say sorry, I am sorry about that. I have always been the one to apologize,apologize for things I have done and things I haven’t. He told me, “Stop apologizing , you aren’t perfect and I acknowledge that.” I found myself saying sorry again and he walked away. So I stopped saying sorry and learnt to tame my tongue.


I did not run after him,what’s the use? Good things never happen to me and if they do,it doesn’t last. Sad,right? I am beating myself up because I want to meet their standards,to make my story align with their plot. I am low as I write this,forgive my bluntness in this piece,look at this barely sentences in and I’m saying sorry again.


He was the liquor burning down my throat,the wild fire resuscitating my soul. The fine tune playing on the vintage jukebox that moved my feet to the dancefloor. I wanted to write about him but he remains my mystery. The secret I whisper in the midnight breeze.


I can’t give what I don’t have,I am lacking in love. I can’t live without air,my chest hurts so bad.  A tear or two that’s just a yawn. Oh fiddlesticks! The river broke it’s banks,it’s a waterfall. Not again, I thought we cried enough already. I can’t really breathe, my lungs feel tight and there’s no air.


It suddenly hurts like losing a friend too fast,no warning or goodbye. It feels like a crack in the earth,falling into an endless blackhole. It’s like a flower dying when in full bloom. A summer with a winter breeze. It made no sense then, right now it feels like I was the burden all along.

broken clay close up crack
Photo by Martins Krastins on

Maybe I will let the water run as it should. Calm my fears like only I can. Dance in the rain on my own because maybe just maybe I’ll calm my storms. My battles are of me and myself. Maybe I’ll stop chasing elements.





Posted in Chronicles, Dear Diary, depression, friends, love, mental health


‘I am not okay.’ It feels so good to finally say these four little not so little words. For the past month or so I have been balancing on a somewhat slippery knife. I have battled lows and serious breakdowns that left me so exhausted. I might have pushed a lot of people away because I was not willing to accept that I needed help. I have always believed in being there for people, I have never really known how to accept a helping hand.

person leans on arms with sad text
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I have almost perfected the art of having a poker face. I showed up where I had to be ,a shell of what I really am. I did what I had to do and retreated to bed for a never-ending series of naps and silent tears. I learnt the art of texting,”I’m okay”,”I’m good” and my favorite line, “I’m fine”. Few realised I wasn’t doing as well as I made them believe and they reached out as I hid further in the shadows. During these times,music became the ointment I lathered over the burns that had left my soul raw and open.

man person people emotions
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My most recent breakdown left me in tears. My chest hurt so bad and my stomach felt like it had been stuck together with glue. The kind of crying that makes the throat dry and  you have to bite into a pillow to keep it all under wraps. All my insecurities and fears knocked me to the ground. I did not have any fighting strength left in me. In the comfort of my bed, I thought of how the world might be a better place if I could leave.I couldn’t write no matter how hard I pushed myself. Nothing made sense apart from the thoughts in my head.

woman sleeping
Photo by Ivan Obolensky on

Some days dragged on for so long, I even skipped classes something I never do. I couldn’t speak up,who will understand what I say? I have heard people say there are so many reasons to be happy since I am lucky to be alive. They don’t know of the silent prayers made when the mind is so clouded by dark thoughts. They don’t know how it feels to be in shambles thinking of how useless life is. How it feels when your head tells you that nobody cares and how big a burden you are to society.



They think that it’s attention seeking antics,they say things that make it all worse and bury us deeper in the ground. They do not know the silent battles we fight, I am speaking about anxiety and the monster that is gaining recognition of late,depression. Mental illness is real, that sounds cliche but that is the sad reality. It is to a point annoying to depend on meds to keep emotions in check. I sometimes wish I could give a warm hug to every soul out there who struggles to stay afloat.

colors colours health medicine
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It’s not easy explaining why I suddenly started crying in a matatu or in the middle of a lecture, it has happened several times and I had to pretend there was dust in my eyes. It’s hard to explain why I hate malls and can’t go to the school tuckshop alone without people thinking I am overreacting.

beach blue car combi
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Other times there are strong urges to make it hurt,physical pain is better that emotional torture,isn’t it? Well it breaks my heart each time someone makes fun of mental illness. I silently wish it befalls them just for 24 hours ,it’s mean but it is very infuriating when you listen to them.

horror crime death psychopath
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It feels like I am ranting which I am anyway but having to constantly worry about suddenly having a breakdown any single minute takes the fun out of everything. On the  other hand it teaches one to enjoy the little pockets of sunshine thrown your way. A good support system is amazing. It works miracles, bringing rain to deserts. Having people who do not give up on me helps me find strength to crawl back up.

backlit dawn foggy friendship
Photo by Helena Lopes on

For now, I am genuinely okay. I am laughing and feeling alive. A week ago, I was giving up on everything but now there’s reprieve. I can say there’s a rainbow in the sky.


architecture bad weather buildings city


Posted in Chronicles, crush, Dear Diary, depression, friends, love, mental health, Poetry, Random


Hey, scratch that, I have no strength to write again. This is why I was afraid to fall because you would not pick me up. I got lost in a maze of my own doing, I actually thought that you would be different.

I religiously check my phone each day, going through all the social apps hoping to see your name pop up.

I never intended for this to happen, if I could, I’d close off my heart never to feel again. I ask for too much, isn’t it?

The distance, do you feel it too or am I just being clingy? Never mind, you know I… It’s not even that important, maybe I am just being a burden. It is not a new feeling, I always feel like I am just being trouble to everyone else. You were kind enough to stay but you got tired just like everyone else and left.

Maybe it’s life’s subtle way of saying I am not cut out for this things. This thing that leaves me feeling all kind of zoo animals and sick to the core. I am trying to act nonchalant but I am breaking out in hives deep inside. Life should probably come with a manual cause this far I think I put the engine in the gear box and the oil in the water valve.

I am calling out your name in my sleep,repeating it like a mantra soothing like Sinatra. Yearning for just a little explanation,tell me I am not enough and I’ll accept it. I need the truth,I am but a fly in your web. Kill me or let me live.