Poetry
Poetry
Every poem published on this site — the complete nine-part series The Blood Between Us, plus standalone confessional, spiritual and philosophical works.
The Blood Between Us · A Poetry Series · 9 Episodes · Complete
Ep 01/09The Beginning
When Love Becomes a Weapon
They taught me that love was supposed to hurt a little. So I learned to measure affection in bruises — the ones you can see, and the ones you hide beneath your ribs.
Ep 02/09Speaking the Unspeakable
The Cost of Being Believed
Truth is heavier when no one helps you carry it. You hold it in your chest until it hardens.
Ep 03/09The Weight of Quiet
The Silence That Breaks You
Silence has a weight. It sits on your chest like a stone you can't lift, pressing down until breathing becomes a chore.
Ep 04/09The Cost of Staying
I Stayed So You Wouldn't Break
I used to think leaving was betrayal. That walking away meant I'd become the villain in your story.
Ep 05/09Performance vs. Truth
The Ones Who Pretend to Love You in Public
There's a special kind of cruelty in being loved only where others can see.
Ep 06/09On Forgiveness
Forgiveness They Never Earned
They want forgiveness like it's a right, like their 'I'm sorry' is a magic spell that erases years of carefully calculated cruelty.
Ep 07/09The Quiet Revolution
The Day I Chose Myself
It wasn't dramatic. No grand exit, no slamming doors. It was quiet — the way most revolutions are.
Ep 08/09The Long Road Back
Healing Isn't Linear
I thought healing would look like a clean line — start here, end there, progress measured in milestones. But healing is messy.
Ep 09/09The End and The Beginning
Freedom Tastes Like Truth
I used to think freedom was an escape — a running away from what hurt. But freedom isn't distance.
Standalone Poems
Confessional · In My Twenties
A Letter to Myself
I looked upon the faults of others and called myself wise — only to discover those same faults had long been living within me.
Redemptive
Beauty From Hell
They say the deepest scars create the strongest souls. I have walked through fire and tasted ash — and still I bloom.
Confessional
The Mystery of Secret Sins
There was once a village where every house had two doors. The front door was wide, always open. But the second door was narrow, hidden at the back.
Philosophical
My Letter to the Unknown
The spacious garden — yet one palm cradles one lone seed as if the soil were different. The lamps are lit, but every flame claims it alone is the morning.
Romantic
The Market of Warm Nights
There was once a market that opened only after sunset. Its stalls were not stocked with grain nor cloth, but with warmth, laughter, and the promise of comfort.
Spiritual
I Battled God
I battled God and lost — though I fought with everything I had: my anger, my silence, my best refusals.
Introspective
The Enigma of I Love Who Doesn't, They Love Who Don't
I love who doesn't love me back. They love who doesn't love them. And so the heart spins in circles, tied to a thread no one is holding.
Spiritual
My Midnight Sorrow
At midnight, when the world is still, my sorrow wakes — and walks the long corridor of memory with its lantern of regret.
General
The Baobab's Shadow
The dust swirls, a memory of forgotten rains, choking the breath from nascent dreams, as ancient baobabs, gnarled and wise, witness the endless dance of hungry wolves.