I see you, you just walked past me and I felt your hand touch mine

But that was it, you seemed not to feel my touch

Your eyes looked past me

Your smile wasn’t for me

I am here, I want you to see me

For so long I have wondered if you think of me

For so long I wondered if you can hear my voice when I whisper in your ear

I am a writer deep within

I want to write about the things I know

I want to write about you, us.

I mean I came here in search for you, is that not enough?

But what do I know?


So should I still write about the things I don’t know?

Can I write about you even though I don’t exist in your world?

Will you read my story?

I do forgive you, I do love you

Have you forgiven yourself?

Do you love yourself?

Your actions were not out of hate, but confusion

Am I right?


The people around you created the scenery for your life in the name of God

Yet they never asked God what was right

They chose to please the eyes of men because men judge

But does God not judge too?

The implications of our deeds stand the test of time but we ignore it all for the people and their eyes

We hate that our names will be in their mouths and they will hold high teas to mash up the information

We hate that fingers will be pointed at us and our foreheads temporarily stamped ‘disgrace’

I get it, I really do

I refuse to judge you now because maybe just maybe if I were you I would have caved too

I refuse to hold on to the questions because questionnaires are a bore

I refuse to cry any longer because the oceans are overflowing

I refuse to hold you back because the load is heavy for me

Go on live your life but don’t let me out of your heart

Go on have another me if you wish just don’t expect them to be me

Go on send me love notes I will be keep them in a box

I love you mama


The Aborted Child

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