Beautiful 

​Beautiful,

It’s 3 O’clock in the morning and I can’t help but linger longer all over the need that I have for you. This loud and ferocious roar of my heart, every time I miss you, always reminds me of the unforgiving and delicious scent of your lips on mine.

I’m afraid to dream because I don’t know whether I’ll see your large smile beside me when I wake, or if I do, I’m afraid and I worry that it could be the worst hullucination ever.

So, I wear your smile and arm myself with the reflection of it like a garter in my dreams lest I be damned to wake up to the absence of your sweet whispers.

Every night is a tad darker now that you’re gone and not here, there’s nothing in this room that played with the light so well like your eyes. Every thing else is blunt. Always reflecting bits of your sunshine and warming me down deep in my soul.

Most nights I hear you say, “I feel alright” just to wake up to the boring swish of the fan. Never did I think I’d miss your soft snores so bad.

The water runs and all I can think about is how your giggles always perfectly bounced off the marble, leaving me woke in all the right places.

Is it just me or does the splash of the water sound so beautiful and heavenly when you’re in the shower? 

I had better not lose my mind until I get that old feeling I always got when you walked through that door and straight into my waiting arms. Wake me up from this bad dream and remind me of what it means to love dangerously. 

Yours truly,

J

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Untitled 2 – #UgBlogWeek (#OryemaReturns)

The evening skies were extra starry, so bright and right or ripe for some cheesy mischief. It had been quite the silence, so, he stretched his arm out, only to find her frozen fingers. Startled, she disguised her wandering attention with a near-whisper scoff. 

He scooped her closer and went on to muse about the brightness of the midnight sky. He searched in the dark for her eyes halfway into his musing, It hit him, she’d been here but not exactly been. Her eyes or the hollow whites he stared right into, spoke so loud that an ugly ache bitterly etched and ebbed right in the middle of his chest. 

He stared blankly, wanting and craving so much to ask a million questions but not knowing how to even start. Why was she this cold? Why had she, with time, slowly scooted farther away into the dark night? Why was her mind wandering away yet she’d invited him here? He needed to know, so he decided it didn’t really matter how that happened. He was going to know!

He kissed her forehead, and just then he noticed the tears; which now freely flowed uncontrollably. 

Man. The questions he now had would for sure have proven very useful in trying to explain why people would demonstrate against the recent U.S elections result.

She’d silently hoped he’d see her pain sooner, but it had taken the fool three grand stories, a thousand twitter trailer jam sessions, a couple of nonsensical soccer jokes, a huge cup of untouched and already molten ice cream for him to notice. Who created men? She wondered. For what it was worth, she knew if tonight went well, it’d be the last she’d see him.

A couple more minutes of disturbing silence. She knew she’d have to come out straight and say it, caring not for what might happen thereafter. If anything, she knew she’d suggested they come to this hill intentionally. It wasn’t as steep as the rest, if anything were to happen, she’d not be hurt as much, she hoped.

Twisting out of his now-very-possessive hold, she wiped her eyes and looked away into the dark, past his shadow and she whispered, “Oryema, Geoffrey Oryema is coming back home”

 

Untitled – #UgBlogWeek

The taste of the last ounces of that poison (we’ll call it poison because it’s illegal) is fading by the minute and she’s still standing, stark sober and unphased. It works like a charm, they said. Her pain overshadowed whatever effect any drug could ever have. 

She drags her bloody body down the street toward her last painful draw of breath. The rain furiously coating her burning anxiety, she couldn’t have cared less about how ruffled her hair now was. Having relied mostly on liquor and any abuse-able drug available on the market  (black), nothing had brought her anywhere closer to the last straw, she had had it.

There she stood in the middle of the road, the pain of having to admit to herself that she had lost all her wits. She knew it was all her fault. She let it happen. Saw the signs, and she just let herself slip deeper into this black hole.

No one had had the time to listen to her distorted and uncoordinated rumblings about a darkness that existed in a seemingly perfect and healthy relationship. 

“It’s just an episode” they said. Rubbishing it off, drawing conclusions about how she must feel. When they were kind enough, they’d suggest how she was supposed to feel or treat the same fool who had found a perfect landing for his fists whenever he felt the urge.

Her agony now painted the skies a shade of grey, darker than the demons that haunted her. Slowly, as life slipped out of her, a bright red smile crept up on her as she saw a bright light come ever closer. And a strong angel towered over her with his protective woolen wings.

She gathered up all her strength and whispered to him, “I waited all my life for you.” She knew then, she’d never have to cry again.

Never Be. . .

The testament of love in him, strung on hope as her gentle sobs only served as quick reminders of hearts broken and tears running so loud. Tears he couldn’t catch (they were never his to catch.)

The ache in both hearts, as they straddled against each other in the dim of light, so heavy and burdening. The taste of it so bitter in both their mouths that kisses couldn’t soothe anymore but trim joy and crucify it all to peace lost.

His childlike delight she alone knew how to treasure now left to a stranger stranger to understand and maybe learn to love, the ache of it grew to parts they alone knew how to pleasure. Such sinful ways to say goodbye. Hurt’s lust was too strong for any of them to resist, even in the face of death. It hurt her more to know, she’d be gone and out of misery but he’d not try to find any other as good as she.

“…some part of him knew that would never be him.” – Cindy Cherie.

“I would have done anything to take it away from her – The pain. All of it. To hold her in my arms and let it soak beneath my skin. What is love? Love is looking someone’s agony in the eye, reaching out a wanting hand and saying, Give it to me, I’ll take it.” – Cindy Cherie 

The ache of losing someone irreplaceable. An excerpt from a book I’ll never write. ***R.I.P Mom :'(:'(:'(***

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