I put your ring in a box,

Locked away where I don’t have to see it

Or remember it and you.

I assumed it was a symbol of your love;

Something precious to you.

A sign you couldn’t stand to be away from me,

A sign that I should think of you no matter how far away you are from me.

Something to hold me down and remember you by.

It wasn’t, it isn’t.

It’s none of those

But all of these,

It was something you could dispose of with no feelings,

It was something to give me the illusion of importance while we were together,

It was just a ring.

No vows given, no vows asked for,

No commitment made, no strings attached,

It was, I’m sorry, it is just a piece of jewelry

My mistake was thinking we would be 16 forever

And that somehow no matter how many times we lost each other, love would find us and bring us back home.

My other mistake was having hope that you’d love me forever.

My mistake was thinking I was your home as you were mine, thinking that you would be unable to love the next person that brushed their fingers against your face because you’d be too filled with your love for me.

I overestimated who I was to you.

I overestimated who I am to you.

I lost.

I lose.

I loved you then

I love you now

I’ll love you forever.



30 minutes till impact

Till it hits you that this is the path you chose.

This is the only way you can control your destiny.

29 years,

you’ve lived on this earth and you’re no closer to finding what your purpose in life is.

28, 28, 28 days till you turn the big 3,0 and you’re no closer to happiness than you were at 18.

I thought it was supposed to get better?

I thought we were supposed to grow happy?

27 bullets.

Passenger sang about this but this thief called depression didn’t just make you lose your belongings, it made you lose your self-worth and your confidence.

26 missed calls.

Friends and family calling you to meet up but crippling anxiety and low self esteem tie you down to your bed with sheets that are soaked with tears.

25 minutes to impact.


Your life is ticking away.

Your goal is drawing near.

It seems so easy.

24 hours in a day

And you hate all 24 of them except obviously when it’s dark because then you can hide how you really feel from the world.

23 bottles.

That’s how many you count when you manage to climb out of bed.

Oh. That’s where the headache came from.

Pause – the best cure for a hangover is more alcohol.

22, That’s how many pills you took the first time you tried to leave.

21 days in a hospital,

20 days in a psych ward.

19 neat stitches the second time you tried.

Yes, you counted.

Shout out to the doctor.

18, right here, you were so young, you had so many dreams.

You could get out of bed each morning

And even though you were sad, it was never as bad as this.

17 pills this time.

I’m not sure if I’m talking about you or me anymore.

I’m not sure if I’m remembering a past life or if I’m looking into my own future.

16. Sweet sixteen, but there was nothing sweet to mark for the year, there was no one there to pour a little sugar in your bitter existence, yet again, you were alone or …. was I? Looked like it was bad then but now it feels like half of hell has let loose.

15. When you were bullied, it didn’t hurt as much as this.

14. When they touched you and told you to not tell anyone, you weren’t as confused as this.

13. When school seemed so difficult, it didn’t feel like you could finish, you pushed yourself, you can’t seem to work up the strength now.

12. When you cut yourself, the relief you felt, you’re looking forward to it.

11. When your parents told you “what nonsense is depression? Pray to God,” you mastered the art of deception, the art of smiling in their faces and hiding your scars, the face you put on to deceive everyone, you’ve had it on for years now.

Drop your mask.

Count out the pills.

10. Hello,

This isn’t a suicide note, it’s a letter to the people I love,

9.I love you mum, I never really did hate you. Not ever.

8. Give my dog to my best friend, if you have to ask who it is, you’re the wrong person to make decisions for my pet.

7. Roses are red violets are purple. There were never really as blue as me, they were never really as cold as me, I feel like my body has been dead for a while and it’s been taking my soul a while to catch up.

6. Don’t bury me, cremate me, spread my ashes, give me the freedom I didn’t have in life, in death.

5. Don’t cry, I wasn’t sure if I had to put this, but don’t cry, I’m rid of this body now, rid of everything.

4. I’m not sure I have a lot of time left, everything is going bla

Things I care about. 

Food – that I’ll go crazy over, I don’t eat for sustenance, I eat because the food makes me happy. I suppose that’s why I don’t eat a lot, not a lot of food makes me happy now.

Friends – friends who love me, Who love every part of me, who don’t try to change me to fit their own definition of perfect.

Friends who make me happy but are there when I get upset and I start to cry over nothing.

Friends who let me spend what little money I have on them.

Friends who don’t leave me second-guessing my stand in their lives.

Friends who let me know they care about me.

Alcohol – not the type that burns your throat, that too but not all the time, because sometimes when life gets overwhelming, a little pain will help ground me.

The sweet type so I don’t know when I start to get tipsy.

But cold, always cold.

Chocolate – chocolate in any form, skin that looks like chocolate on a friend? Even better.

Chocolate makes me oh so happy and when I find a drink that goes along with it, I’ll be extremely happy.

Chocolate cake with butter icing on it? Leave me to my sugar rush.

Ice-cream and Frozen yogurt – I hate brain freeze a whole lot but it’s a small price to pay for creamy deliciousness. Ice cream with chocolate in it? Frozen yogurt with fruits I love in it? Love. Unadulterated love b.

Cars – I don’t know a lot about cars, I never pretend to, I know just enough not to be stranded on the road but put me behind the wheels of a car and I’m ecstatic, I’m happy, I want to just take off, it’s mostly because I love speed, I love speed because of the thrill, the need to remember I’m alive and have something set my heart off.

New messages from someone I like – it feels almost as good as chocolate, almost as good as a cold drink, talking about nothing even, I just want to talk to them.

Family – there are some bonds that are unexplainable, you don’t have to like your family, you can love them because they’re family, but the people they are might make you not like them and honestly that’s fine.
I like my family as individuals on some days I can’t bring myself to love them because of whatever might be going on in my head and then on days I don’t like them because of something they might have done to me, I love them because they’re family.

Books – how else can I run away from my life?

Songs – how else can I go deep into my mind to hide and pretend everything is fine?

My bed – half of my day is spent in it, i have to love it.

Photos – because videos might show how shitty you really felt at the moment it was captured but pictures don’t really do that.

I love memories too.

They give me a false sense of peace and hope.

Videos – haha, because friends and family are precious and at 2am while I’m in my bed I want to remember you saying you love me while you stole my food that time.

Sad movies – everyone needs a good cry.

Clouds – the sun setting, the sun rising. So many beautiful colors

Beauty that makes my heart skip a beat.

Hugs – they make almost everything alright.

Writing – how else can I convince you I know and remember who I am?


You didn’t know how.

You didn’t know where.

You had no idea why

You were in a daze

While he fed words into your mouth.


You didn’t know what.

You didn’t know why you did it.

But you did

You regretted it

You cried yourself to sleep.


He made you tell on yourself.

He made you tell him who you are.

He made you tell him where you came from.

He made you turn on your own self.

He made you weak.




You still don’t know how.

You still don’t know where.

You’re not conscious of your decisions.

They’re not voluntary actions.

They’re not you.


Awake but are you really?

You can see but is this the truth?

You can feel but you’re not sure what you feel.

Is this magic or are they prayers,

Are you possessed by demons or by the will to do his wish?


The circles you see turn faster and faster.

He spins you more.

He tries to cast the demons out.

But preacher man,

Why, why are you trying to cast her out of the body she dug up by herself?


Recite – (rɪˈsʌɪt)

Meaning: repeat aloud or declaim from memory before an audience.

He recited our vows before our families and friends.

He practiced days upon days before our wedding.

Of course at the time, it seemed like a declaration of love.

It seemed like promises to be fulfilled, words to be kept.

He looked me in my eyes, in the presence of our maker and he droned out the words he had committed to memory.

So baby boy,

I’ve seen it all.

Tell me more lies.

I’ve heard worse.

There’s no need to commit words to memory.

We won’t last that long.

This is my recital.

And the world is my audience.

After he was done,

After he asked me to clean up and get out.

After I went by the hospital for tests.

After I became a shell of myself.

After every quick move by someone else scared me out of my wits.

After I couldn’t walk alone at evening or in lonely places.

I’m fine. Better days ahead.

I’m fine. The sun will shine again.

I’m fine. This isn’t the end.

I’m fine. There’s no rainbow without the rain.

I’m fine. Tomorrow is a gift.

This is my recital.

The girls who fear they are damaged are my audience.

Continuously looked down on.

Continuously put down.

Continuously overlooked.

Continuously underrated.

Continuously wronged.

Continuously the bearer of hate, racism, bigotry and sexism.

I am tired.

You don’t get to talk to me like that.

You don’t get to treat me different because of my skin color.

You don’t get to shove your hate in my face.

You will respect me.

You will respect what I stand for.

This is my recital.

And colored girls are my audience.


For the longest time while growing, I called solitaire the game solitary, I didn't understand why it was named that, none of the cards were alone,
They were all in decks so I didn't really understand what it meant to be solitary.

When I got into Primary school, I had friends, I was this tall skinny girl who was all smiles and one dimple, when have you not wanted to be friends with someone like that? So I didn't understand what it really meant to be solitary.

I got into secondary school, I got taller, my smile got bigger and I had more friends than I did in primary school, I was a cool kid, I had people I shared secrets with, I had people who would back me up during confrontations so I didn't understand what it really meant to be solitary.


I moved on. I got into university, I smiled for a while but then my smile faded, I folded in on myself, I wasn't so tall anymore, my dimple didn't sink in anymore, I sunk in, to depression.

I grew, alone, I thrived, alone, I existed, alone.

It's worse, when you know exactly how it feels to be surrounded with people, then you lose that.

I hated being alone, I hated sleeping alone.

But I understood finally what it meant to be solitary.


To reveal,
To expose,
To show yourself after being hidden away for so long.
To be who you were always made to be.

To take the first step.
To slowly remove the capes that cover you.
To gradually emerge from your cocoon.
To bare it all.

To know who you are now.
To stand in self confidence.
To not doubt that you are all that and more.
To be.
Without questions.

So darling,



The photo in the mail.
That's what it was.
I had seen him before now,
When he was a strapping young man.
Full of life and in color.

But now all we have left, is a memory that is


That's how the scan came in.
She hadn't seen you before.
But she loved you.
She loved you so much,
She covered you with her skin.

I watched him.
When he was learning to crawl,
When he was learning to walk,
While he was growing,
When he learnt to tip his hat and say ma'am.


When she died,
We couldn't find any photos of her.
Except for one.
She destroyed everything else
Because they had you in it.
She destroyed herself too because she had you in her.
When you left, her life became bleak.

Sundaes on Sunday after church.
In your scratchy suit and her pretty sundress.
After you listened to the pastor preach redemption.
Even though you didn't understand why he kept shouting,
You sat and you listened.


Had a he in it.
Now it's just an S.
Just the way her spine curves under the load of her loss.
Weighing her down, breaking her back.

Everything lost its color when you left.
They say a mother's love is the strongest.
Well, they told no lies.
Except one, they said life will get better.
They lied, it got,


Phone Cord 

I've been wrapping the telephone cord around my fingers for hours now, waiting for you to hang up, we've played the game of you first for a while now but when the phone bill comes, my dad's going to kill me first, I'll see you in class tomorrow while we recite our multiplications, I'll play a game of FLAMES in my head and even when it stops at just friends, I add an extra letter so we're lovers. 

I've been wrapping the telephone cord around my fingers for a long while now, waiting for you to call me, I can't call you, I wouldn't want to bug you, I'd rather you thought I was ignoring you, I've been sitting here, on the floor just beside the phone, you've humbled me, I have class tomorrow and while my teacher talks about radii and areas, I realize you're everywhere in my heart, you are the shaded area. 

I've been wrapping the telephone cord around the fingers now, late to school, you're late to call but I don't mind, I'll be right here, they say eventually you get over your primary school crush, my love for you has graduated by my side over the years, now as I learn about Maxwell's equations, I write you into my life, I think up names for our kids and when my lecturer calls me to the board, the equation there is obviously the last thing on my mind. 

I'm trying to wrap the telephone cord around my fingers, but I can't, I'm at work and there's a strict policy against calls during work hours so I wait and countdown hours till my break, when I call you, I get your voicemail, "hi, it's us, leave a message, we can't come to the phone". Since when is there an us? 
While I was wrapping the telephone cord around my fingers, you, my love, were wrapping yourself around someone else. 
When I wrap this telephone cord around my neck, it won't feel strange, after all I've been doing this for years, haven't I?

How are you?

How are you? 

Don’t answer that. 

I’ll do it for you. Eventually. 

You lie, 

Your body’s automatic response to that question is 

Quick lies or a U turn in topics. 

You’ve programmed your body to automatically respond 

You don’t give your brain time to mull over this question. 

You answer 

Every time 

I’m fine, or the closest synonym you can say without having to think long. 

Every single time, you say 

I’m fine. 
I’ll answer now, 

You’re tired, exhausted, worn out. 

There aren’t enough words to describe how you feel

There aren’t enough quantification of emotions to express what is inside of you. 
You’re bone dead tired. 

Your soul inside of you is tired. 

Tired of trying to push a body that is tired of moving. 

Tired of having to console itself 

Your mind is tired, 

Run rugged like gears grinding with no oil. 

Broken from repeating I’m fine. 

Perfect broken record. 

Your body is tired of even trying to stand. 
You pinch and prod at it to keep moving. 

But you can’t push a broken down vehicle from the inside. 

You can’t make you do anything you doesn’t want to do. 

You don’t want to keep moving

You don’t want to continue pretending. 

You don’t want to keep crying. 

You do not want to dredge up a smile so people can remain in there comfort zone around you. 

You are tired, worn out, exhausted, I could go on. 
You’ll continue to be tired until you acknowledge that tiredness,

Until you address it and bloody well overcome it. 

You, me, us. 

How are we?