Most of the time his?

No,sometimes his.

Enslaved by a desire he can’t reach

Imprisoned by her fears.

Afraid of letting it all go.

Overwhelmed, he walks through the door,

with preying eyes around the room

and then his eyes find her.

like an unmoveable bed

he falls in like its routine

no explanations, no talk, no life.

sometimes she thinks she forgot how to love

her life stopped each time he walked right in

He is a coward, she thought.

Afraid to accept she has a world behind those sheets.

Helpless to let herself step out.

Can’t even give up herself when she has to

but yes,sometimes his

Most times not. is all it will ever be?

His comfort is in turning tables

just to elevate his ego

and on her knees she bores to command.

She thought?

No, she was convinced she liked it,

decieved she hadn’t lost herself

but all she had left was her emptiness,

maybe she had forgoten to live without him,

yet she was only his for a while

an option never a choice

with a stranger she thought she knew.

Many times she felt soft

like butter under the sun,

she let herself melt andflow down the slab like

a yellow rivulet towards him

hoping he would catch every trickle of affection

when he offered his world she embraced it

but she prefered her own

5d2eda5eeb604aefccc0822508fd7799sometimes his and thats all she will ever be.


puzzled lines*

I am not a broken heart.

It’s just that feeling of emptiness

A feeling of disappointment

Call it betrayal

Maybe I just over trusted.

I am not collarbones or drunken letters never sent.

The traffic your side was too noisy

Your house was crowded on an empty street

So the courier kept sending them back

And my hearth just kept smoking them all out

So I stopped writing.

I am not the way I leave or left

A lot changes or has changed.

Years passed or have.

I actually grew an inch taller,

I added abit of weight,

I bought more yellow ink,

Painted more canvases of me,

Wrote and read more,

Spent time with ‘Me’ more,

I bet you, this new picture is adorable.

Its like wine, the older it gets the finer

The dustier, the more desirable and costly

Or didn’t know how to handle anything,

No call it over bearing.

Choosing to lose yourself maybe,

A new pattern of thought,

new wave of emotion,

At any time,

It was most of the time.

And I am not your fault!


I think i was raised up differently. I probably have a masculine influence. I was taught to say the truth no matter any circumustance and as a matter of fact I am bold enough not to have the girl in me intimidated.

Last night I sat down trying to analyse why to most i come off as complex. well, Am i complex?

Yes I am.

Do i come off as too bold?

Yes, i do. But like a friend once told me, to only those who think women should not express themselves fully.

Is my character intimidating to men?

Yes. Especially for those who think there is a written script on how to go about women.

So I could easily be misunderstood because my character is a preserve for males in our chauvinistic society. But hey, i cannot lose myself or a part of me trying to have them all understand we especially when they labour less but if i have to choose then i will chose’Me’  everyday. Instead of walking down the aisle of a church in a white dress, I’d prefer walking down the aisle of books at the store (in jeans), choosing a romance novel through which to live vicariously.  Not that i do not desire to walk down the aisle but it should be with someone who understands my indifference and appreciates the woman i have been brought up to be. I am not unpredictable or one assumes i do not adjust. I do because i am too human. I too bend


She never dreamed or desired of getting married to a man of God. Not a preacher, clergyman or choir master but she was on fire for christ. She desired and dreamt of marriage but first built her relationship with God but she never once thought she would be attracted to a minister, better still a worshipper. All her past relationships didnt give her the craving she desired in her husband.

So she decided she would only date in ministry, someone who understood her love for christ and loved christ more than he adored her. A man who understood love on a foundation of christ.If God called her to singlehoodness she was ready to embrace it because he was her first love.

She had no idea what it entailed in being a ministers wife but she was willing and patient to learn. As long as she had christ she was sure he would prepare her and as long as she waited she would sit, support him, understand him, be his friend,prayer partner,companion and still be his wiffcd8a457d62fc99422941062faddbb5de. The fire that burned within her for a man that understood essence of worship wasnt goin to allow her settle for less. Yes, sometimes she was lonely and tired of being single. God knew she burned on the inside but she was willing to wait for a minister.



Hi S

Sometimes I wonder if you are here because you act so.

But then I realise that our love died long ago that the ashes have cooled.

There is no more us?

Maybe there was never…

Just something faked that refused to get real because you kept being the negative one in the equation.

I continue to get lost in my ink and poetry because that’s who i really was from the begining.

You were too blinded to even see how much i loved white because you were too focused on the mirage of becoming a better you without me,

Do you even realise how much time has passed?

How much i hurt?

You couldn’t even hear the noise in my silence because traffic on your side was too loud.

The lover,friend,laughs laughs,madness were all good memories but right now all i have is a tarnished version of you and a tainted version of myself

You robbed everything i had and left me empty but only with my esteem.

There was once something here.

I trusted you with It and you lost it

You are now just another stranger with all my secrets,

another wind i loathe

a season i do not look forward to,

a withered rose garden,

there is no more blossom in this bloom.

I was determined to becoming the woman you wanted me to be and I lost my way to the woman i was purposed to be

my feelings,

a lettered altered ego of what they used to be.

my knees dusty and greyed from long hours of kneeling because i believed in’us’.

now i get lost in re-writing it all..

get high and coffee and cuddle on my sofa.

this is how simple it was meant to be but u just loved me hard.

before you think am writing all these puzzle of lines to you…..



its like a child screaming in the hallway.

jumping about freely with no worries.

Echoes hitting waves of space and back,

a heart shadowed with lots of emptiness.

My heart knows certain things my mind can hardly explain.

I let go of things now simply because they are heavy.

You are a stranger with all my secrets.

I wrote on walls of an empty tunnel,

that stood hidden and abandoned to passengers

the innocence in me got confused,

that i stand with my hands lifted to my head.

And now, you are a stranger with all my secrets.


Take me in your arms tonight,

tear the veil that shields me from you

take me strongly yet softly

and make me mourn in estacy.

Tonite i am all yours baby.

I wanna hear the rhythm of your heart beat play next to mine.

I wanna feel the sweetness in your touch

the strength in your strums

the pace of your heart

just run me over darling, run me over…

Softly,smoothly, tenderly

carefully baby…


That friday evening as i slopped back home,she told me you had been admitted. Even though we call her a drunko, I sensed fear in her tone and she was actually acared because unlike the other days she was back with the next five minutes. It was the inviting news before i could even say hello to dad (anyways he never waits for a greetin when he has something to say). My heart skipped though i gathered strength to say u shall be fine and if you don’t we let you rest in the Realms of heaven. I entered my room and said a short prayer like my spiritual father always teaches but my spirit was sure you wouldn’t make it and the voice in my head was loud ‘let her rest’. Why did i take long to accept or have it sink in? I recall telling him. ‘Tonight i will switch off my phone because i don’t want people messing with sleep’. It was only an excuse i created because i actually didnt want to accept.

Is this how writers mourn?

Rwozzi woke me up as early as six when the bad news was announced but in denial of wanting it to sink,i grumbled about why he had to wake me up. My day was okay until the lovely human you gave birth to, my mother showed up from the corner of the compound and as i stood to welcome her, I actually hugged a broken woman who wouldnt hold her tears. I teared with her not because you were gone but because my mother was broken and all the lamenting she did left me helpless.  When dawn broke and the house was now full, i looked out for your favourite hymns and sang with my cousins just hoping i would hear your voice join in as usual and i would laugh at you trying to catch your breath yet appreciate the lover of christ you are but i got no response. I kept on going hoping maybe you were asleep and would wake up when you hear us so i raised my voice but no, u didnt show up. Mukya u let me worship alone!. After dinner as everyone looked for where they could lay down i went to my room that we have always shared just to make sure i catch some sleep. In my bed with your other two grand daughters we lay and chat and nobody slept on the other bed (the one you always slept on) and before i knew i was talking to myself because sleep had stolen them. I turned to your empty bed this time full of bags and it when it hit me. All these people are gathered here because you are gone. I couldn’t hold back the loud cry my dear, I walked through to the sitting room carefully with all these people laying down i was floored. I couldnt explain what i felt by speech but i knew i was broken.

Is this how writer’s grieve?

So, I went to see Sheka (as you foundly called him) at school and when i couldnt get myself to break the news of your passing to him is when i realised how messy i was. I actually do not recall ever breaking it to any individual unless through my posts of celebrating your life. All i could do when he asked about you because he left you home was show him pictures of the funeral. I havent accepted your passing but i have accepted the fact that you are not with me.(i dnt knw what sense that is). I am lost in this. I cant find myself. I still cry, I still call you, I still talk about you like you are next door. But I am still so lost Mukya my darling grandma. But today allow me, I know it wont be easy get myself together easily, I might still write and cry but allow me today say Fare thee well Grandma (i ve said this before though). Till we meet again in the realms of heaven. If this is how writers grieve then allow me grieve till i heal.