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No More Love

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“I hope I don’t see you again,” I told her that plain. She wanted me to stay Yet I walked away Never looked back, Not her way anyway, Did not want to see the pain I knew was in her eyes. It was done Just like that, She keeps me on the loop Still sends those messages That she still loves me I wish I could change everything To another time! I lack the words What do I tell her then? My heart’s forgotten to love She can’t understand more Than that she does love me, I don’t want to lie to her, Pretend I know love anymore I just lost the feeling Not for her Not for anyone Dunno know what I gonna do for her.
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Intimate Partner Violence (Retribution)

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In a world where patriarchate is heritage nothing has been left to chance about the male dominance – man is the head, and woman the neck.             Nevertheless, the recent attacks on men from a particular place in Kenya (classified stuff) by their women have raised alarm on the God-given place of man. There seems to be a silent revolution that would end the age-old reign of man. Women are infiltrating, conquering and dominating where man has boasted the sole leadership and command since time immemorial, and are doing better. Why this sudden upheaval? The woman is empowered to the hilt, and the male species is losing it. Gone are the days when alcohol-acquired-machismo was revered by the ladies and thence the sisters (who’ve been in distress for eons) have taken the reins – from bedroom to work place.                       It is no longer the duty of wives to wash their husband’s feet when he arrives from a journey; the washing machine does the laundry and, poo
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Cracked Hearts

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The last time I saw Maimun words poured out of me like water squeezed from a sponge. She covered my mouth with hers as if to swallow a terrible curse that would come back to afflict us. “Forget us, forget me,” she said. Upon us was the moment of partying— my heart cracked. “I will come for you, my moon,” I said. “I will get you away from your Imam father Even Allah.” “Goodbye, my love I cannot help you with my love. Forget, my love I love you more than life itself.” She shimmered away— And I was alone. 
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A Song of Water and Fire

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  When I first met him, he was a wanderer, gypsy           his eyes thirsty           and his body fire— When I first saw her, she was a wonder, water           to put out fire. The fountain between my legs dripped, gushy           from the same spot of a leaking roof. Photo by John Rocha from Pexels.com Fire burnt from the pit of my stomach, hot coals           and I knew I had a home. You will never wander anymore, Gypsy, I told him. Between her legs, she was patchouli: earthy and musky smell,           sweet yet smoky, a balance of sweetness and romance—           and for the rest of the night, I tasted her tanginess. Keep it that way, I told him and put out the fire. Image by 0fjd125gk87 from Pixabay
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