The Most beautiful Girl- Part 2

Years pass and she remains a sister to me
A perfect relationship divorce can’t sever
There is no ‘more‘ to want
Her love is complete and I am satisfied
Until the 99th night she passed at my house
She wakes at midnight to find my fingers on her breast
With a push from her I land on the floor
On getting up I see the hurt and unbelief in her eyes as tears roll down her cheeks
There is no explanation to her or myself of my actions
No words are exchanged
The wait for dawn is like waiting for Jesus’ second coming
I curl on the floor while she clutches herself tightly on the bed with occasional sniffs
I die a thousand death in a thousand ways, all by suicide
She leaves as morning comes
Apologies are meant for explainable crimes, not inconceivable ones
This crime should not be apologized for nor forgiven
A lot of water pass under the bridge and today I cry;
I cry because she visits last week and wraps me in a hug
We go for walks and she leans on me like old times
Like I didn’t abuse her
She has a golden heart but the most I expect are patches;
A hand sewn cloth thread with caution
She disappoints me with total abandonment and oblivion of the past
I cry for I don’t deserve her yet I have her
Her name is Grace

ChyD
© 2019

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THE MOST BEAUTIFUL GIRL – Part 1

The most beautiful girl my experience taught smiled at me today
It has been a long class and I thought I was following till that smile
I have myriads of questions but I fear my mates might have a comic relief
So I try moving my shivering lips apart in an attempt to smile back
My grades are average so why the warmth in her smile?
My grades are average so I must be missing something a brighter student can point out
Soon after class, a tap on my shoulder, and I turn to see a pair of joy-flooded eyes
I can’t hold her gaze, my legs are trembling and I have a sudden urge to pee
I sit down, clamp my legs together with my hands between them
She seem to notice my discomfort so she pulls out my hand and holds
“What have I got myself into”, I think
Without mincing words she tells me she likes me and would want a friend in me
On the 3rd attempt at trying to talk and not recognizing my voice
I clear my throat and all I can mutter is ‘okay’
I could change classes and routes and never see her again but she has other ideas
She walks me home, my palm in hers
With each laughter and chatter, I feel at home
She tells tales too beautiful to be true about herself;
Describes her thoughts of me in ways my exposure has not afforded my imagination
I unpack boxes I leave packed because I was always on the move
Now I am home

ChyD
© 2019

Slavery

I spoke to Runs girl once,
She said her anger is her source
As she was forced to this life
By her Uncle who came like a thief in the Night and her virginity was the casualty
So the penalty is death for all those who now commit the crime of sleeping with her
She blames they, them
For the mayhem she cause their Marriages
‘I wouldn’t pay for damages when my case has been adjourn’
Everyone I told turn a blind eye to my hurt
Now my heart burns with hate
If you stare at me, your fate might be a night to that hell I have been put through
I and my crew will screw all of you till you forget your wives and call us Boo
She like many others are Nigerian avengers
Fighting the ghost of their abusers
And I too felt her pain
A slave to a past that had been stained,
But can be snow if she chooses to let his light glow
Even if life has given her a low blow as she wrestles with her past demons
She can tag him in
He will guarantee her the win
Then the will to talk of his saving grace with pride
Everywhere she goes, she sows seed of hope to girls like her who are still slaves to rippers of souls
Tell them the past matters but the future is what they want to see and behold

Victor Isoje
(c) 2018

LOVE WITHOUT LIMITS

I was unsure the day I accepted Him. I couldn’t afford to be heart broken yet again.
But I needed help so I took the risk.
I said YES
Weeks went by and I found myself guilt tripping.
Nothing I did was enough or (so I thought).
I didn’t know how to express my love to Him the way He did to me.
I struggled so hard to be faithful, and committed, but I failed each time.
Loving Him was tough, I cried some nights, and silently prayed that He’ll forgive my shortcomings.
I couldn’t return the favour, I felt empty.
He carried all my burden, and never complained.
Months turned into years and I was certain I couldn’t keep up, it seemed too good to be true.
My Love, we need to talk.
Go on dearie, am all ears.

What can I do to help make this work?
How do you mean?
Each time I try to make up for a wrong,
Each time you love me more.
You never seem to count my wrongs against me.
I don’t feel befitting to have You, I don’t feel worthy.
Listen to me my love,
I rejoiced the day you accepted me.
All I seek is to have a relationship with you, my love for you is dependent on nothing you do.
I forgave you of all your short comings years ago. Your past isn’t relevant and can never be compared to the glorious future we have together.
I find you worthy, in you I see perfection.
Don’t try to earn my love,
my love for you is eternal.
I swore never to be angry with you.
My yoke is easy to bear, and the burden I give you is light.
Wow! Thank you Jesus!
For choosing me,
For loving me,
Now I know it’s not about what I do but what You’ve done.
I rest in You.

Imani Dokubo

(c) 2018

Letter to the Boy

Being single could make one appear socially awkward, especially, when you get to 24. People would ask a lot of why questions and before you know it, you are out of perfect replies. It could be maddening, you know? Especially, when they see you converse with a pretty lady, then start with their 1000 rule advice on how to win her over, as though you had asked their counsel on how to get a “bae”. It could be ridiculous too, when a lady tells you, “upon all this your sweet mouth, you dey claim say you no get babe”, as though being a good talker is all you need in order to be in a relationship. dat one no too dey pain me. I get more annoyed when fellas try to point out a girl for me just because she has the kind of hips that are very close relatives of Abakiliki mounds and breasts that are large enough to suffocate a toddler. And on more occasions, a complexion that is characterized of an over ripped pawpaw. They would just shout “wow” like Jesus Christ got born again… I know you got the juicy part of such tales in your head.

Then, if you are not careful, you would settle for the glaze on the utensil without considering the type of material it is made of. That’s me waving a “welcome to Hell Street”, because, all you will ever dream of is, an exit strategy from this business that you entered into without much consideration. You know how you just end up scheming on ways to get her hyper pissed off with you and end up asking you for a break up, but when it fails, you start rehearsal of your 360-word break up line. And when finally you are done with the inscription on her heart, she starts seeing all boys, guys, and men, (forgive the redundancy), as an evil she have to live with. However, because emotions still run through her veins, if no one wise enough is close by to advise her rightly, she becomes a formidable heart basher, who only cares about your little change, in an exchange for the toy of herself, remember you made her to start feeling like a toy.