Mother rubs her flawless skin, then rubs her big belly. Blessed with a girl child, she whispers. Mother ties the last pink bow on a head of pompoms, seeing herself in the eyes of the girl she birthed. Heart swells with pride. Mother says go play outside, I have guests, child. Mother says don’t be […]Read More MOTHER
Sometimes that’s all they are.
Siya waited until the last person had made their way towards the front of the bus before standing up, readjusting her jacket around her slim hips and swinging her satchel over one shoulder as she had seen the stylish models do in old copies of Drum magazine.Read More Fresh Starts
I am not a poet. So this isn’t a poem.Read More Soft.
You deserve to be loved unconditionally, for exactly who you are. I, unfortunately, have conditions…Read More Final Whispers
Grief will remind you how fleeting life is. Won’t you live?Read More Anniversaries are for Sad things too
This could be Vol. 14Read More Of Trust Issues and Whirlwinds