Love Can Now See; He Wants Everything.

"Bouquet' by an unknown artist

Love is not blind anymore;
I worry about the things he can see.
He does not want to talk some more;
he wants me in bed on three.
I consciously mask my imperfections
so he’ll choose and stay with me.
He says my boobs and butt are small;
I think about increasing them by three.
Our boat is on rough seas
but all he wants to do is flee.

He says he wants freedom, 
and she’s not me.

Requited lust.
Unrequited love.
It’s interesting how the lines between love and lust have been skewed.

I AM beINg PAtIeNt

I hope you’ll see sooner,
that I am your other,
that we ought to be together,
that we can make each other stronger.
I can be your healer,
and you can be my lover,
and vice-versa.
I’ve loved you since I was much younger,
and I’ll love you forever.


Her Sore-n

Theirs was like the relationship
between the sun and the roses.
The roses need the sun;
the sun doesn’t need the roses.
We all know the sun never really notices
the roses until they vigorously sway
their petals from side to side.

Rose thought she’d be a lot happier
if the Sun came down to live with her.
She shook and swung, flirted and sucked
[his light in as much as she could? Amen].
She’s severely burning,
but she’s glad she’s the hot guy’s main girl.
She’s now closer to being his wife;
death is her new, perfect life.



Nine of Swords

Nine of Swords. Rider-Waite Deck.

The roses are dead;
I am blue.
Not one thing you said
was fully true.


Don’t Live in Denial

When someone shows you
who they really are,
you must believe them.
Don’t live in denial.
Make no excuses for them.
Go over what you learnt
from your experience with them,
forgive yourself for everything
you think you did wrong,
and move on.

Exist in the present,
bury the dead feelings that have
made your heart their home,
and leave it all behind.


There are two kinds of abuse in love. The first kind is the one you suffer from before the other person shows you who they really are and what they really want. The abuser would be them if it’s the first kind, because they can’t really decide if they want you or not, at your own expense. They’re not sure if they love you, so they want you to wait till they make up their mind.

The other kind is self-inflicted. Someone bluntly says they don’t love you or they don’t want to have anything to do with you and you say “oh, I mustn’t pay any attention to that. He’s a Pisces. He’s just being his moody self; there’s nothing wrong here,” or someone refuses to return your calls and messages and you say “you know how these INFP Capricorns and Scorpios are, plus his grandma’s sister’s daughter’s baby daddy’s second cousin’s niece died, so he’s probably just in a bad mood or busy with work”. No, what are you doing?

The other person/party wouldn’t be at fault in cases like the second one. It’s up to you to jolt out of this terrible, energy-sucking fantasy that you have placed yourself in.

Ask yourself, “what good is this unbalanced, abusive union or lack thereof to me?” If your answer is “none”, you can make a change right there and then. You can cry if you need to. You have to make yourself happy again, without them. 

You wouldn’t need to worry about, or be unsure if someone loves you if they do, because it will be clear; it will be as clear as a bright, sunny day.

The key to the prison in your heart is in a safe place in your mind. In cases of unrequited love, one must accept the challenge of thinking more and feeling less. Feeling and daydreaming, till it begins to affect your health, will affect you very badly. It will make you useless to yourself. It’s hard, but one must die first to possess eternal life. Stop living in denial. Let go! 🌻 “Alaafia.” 💛🍯


Unre-QUIT-ed II

Staying with someone who doesn’t love you because you love them.
Being okay with it because you think you have them, at least, but you don’t.

You have him or her but they’re not yours. You can touch them and pet them and feed them and kiss them but they’re not yours. All those things won’t make them yours. You know that quite well but you wish you didn’t. 

For some reason, for love reasons, holding on seems a lot easier than letting go. You know you’re treading on a futile, wrong path, but you’re not stopping. You’re lost. You have to stop and turn back. You can’t find the right path if you don’t stop.

It’s hard. It’s hard to quit this unrequited love…



In a loving relationship with unrequited love;
in an abusive relationship with yourself.


Love Lives, Love Dies

Every love is a risky gamble.
A person might need you for a thing,
for something, for anything,
but it’s for a set amount of time.
They’ll be the butterfly;
you’ll be the flower.
They might bring beauty to your life;
it’s what butterflies do.

When they’re done with you,
they’ll give any excuse to leave.
They’ll be very manipulative;
they’ll turn it on you.
They’ll play with your intelligence
and blame it on you-
their desire to flap their wings,
their need to explore.

“Your petals don’t smell as nice
as they used to;
I’m leaving you.”
“Your breasts aren’t perky enough and
you are not as tight as I want, down there.”
“You have thorns and they’re poking me;
oh, if only you were a red rose!”
“You were rude to me”,
so I’m saying ‘goodbye’ now.”
“You are letting the breeze
blow you from side to side,
and I can’t deal with that.”
“If only you were a few inches longer.”

Why do you think a person who has
treated you so badly still deserves you?
You have to snap out of it!
Make new friends!
You owe it yourself to heal;
you owe it to yourself to feel-
to feel free.
You owe it to yourself to breathe-
to live.
From the imaginary relationship
that you’re still holding on to?


Letting Go, Letting Grow

Love proves to you,
and quite painfully,
that letting go is not always
a lot easier than holding on.
The former requires all the
strength you can give;
you give everything you’ve got to let go.
You lose the things you once held dear,
you loose yourself,
and you lose your old self.
It’s like death, and death is scary,
but resurrection is beautiful.
Go through the pain
and resurrect beautifully;
it’d be a shame to die and stay dead.


Love and Pride

She always went back to plead
every time they fought,
whether or not she was in the wrong,
because she had swallowed her pride
alongside his semen a while before;
her self-esteem was wounded,
at the very core.

He didn’t want to be with her;
but he didn’t want to lose her.
Thoughts of her filled him with pleasure
when she was far away,
and with disgust each time
she came back to stay.
There’s only so much one’s pride can take;
my people often say “one day na one day”.

If Love and Pride could have sex,
she [Love] would always like to stay on top.
Pride would obviously be
more sexually active;
Love won’t be in control for long.

They fought again;
they were both in the wrong.
He waited for her return,
but she’s wasn’t going back anymore.
She had coughed out her senses;
she had rescued her drowning pride.
Now he huffs and puffs because
he wants his stray bitch back,
but “again” is a gain,
and this time, as always, it’d be whose again?


Image result for the devil card                                                                        Image result for the eight of cups card