Author: MIRAWU


I’m looking at the drapes

So thick and full of life

Do they also have hopes? 

Even as they block out the light? 

Do they know what beauty they block out? 

Like a layer used to paint the face. 

Do they realize they are just but a barrier? 

And inside is a cage of rage

A caged beast lacking an outlet

A beast forced to forget

Her mind is still clear

She knows she lives a lie

She knows the drapes hang because of her mistakes

But she has to be in with the crowd

Doesn’t want to be the subject of a frown

She is concealed in a hypothetical world that misunderstands her

Barred by the chains of knowing the trends that she forgets she is a masterpiece

So she pretends to be less than she actually is

Pretends she is living a life of bliss

Yet inside the hell fire that burns is as intense as her own soul

She needs a being that understands her

One who will allow the drapes to be pulled back

She needs someone to give her a hand

To help brush off the dust

Because she knows which arrows to follow

Even as her heart remains hollow

She is a lioness crammed up in a cage so lonely

And all this I see when I look at the drapes 

And at the paint upon her face


She’s Having His Baby..? 

I’m standing here, wishing to a higher power that I had not heard those words uttered in the room I am in. I send a silent prayer to whoever is listening. I need the ringing in my ears to stop. My sight blurs. Did this piece just say she is pregnant? That she has my man’s baby inside her? 

“Show me proof,” I say to her with as much calmness as I can muster. She laughs. Not because I am funny. I mean… Yes I am, but I wasn’t trying to be two seconds ago. She releases another laugh, maybe a snort. 

No. I need to stop trying to insult the carrier of his child. Because that is all she is. She is just carrying his baby. 

“In the bedroom. The master.” She says as if I was to think they were to perform the forbidden acts in my kitchen. She heads up the steps. I follow. 

He knows I am mad. Because he knows me too well. He knows I am pissed off to levels I myself cannot comprehend. He knows better than to lead me to the kitchen at this moment, because the anger in me could make me fashion a formidable weapon out of the tiniest tea spoon. And knowing this, I follow the floozy up the stairs. One, two three… Master bedroom. 

She opens my drawer and removes a pregnancy test. Already opened. Already used. I pray once more. But as I look at it, already positive. 

A burning sensation begins in the pit of my stomach. The pedals of sanity are fading. I feel them cycling away. I can’t hold this nice face for long. “How sure are we that it is real?” I ask. I can’t believe myself! I dare doubt information as serious as this! But I love this man too much, I can’t help it.

She snorts. Just like the pig she is. “You think I can cook pregnancy positives? I can pee on a new stick for confirmation  Your Highness”

I don’t like her tone. She is sarcastic. I don’t like it one bit. I look her in the eyes. She looks at me menacingly. Like a lioness protecting her cubs in the African jungle. Her eyes fiery. Posture alert. She looks as if she is ready to pounce on me. I quickly scan my memory to see if I have ever had any one of my enemies in such a state. Nothing comes to mind. 

“Yes,” he now finds words to chip in. “Let’s test again, with all present”

I lift my hand up to his face for him to shut up. I can’t have him speak right now. He will only disorient my line of thought. I need a glass of water. I turn to leave the room. 

“Look at the scrawny little bird leaving once more. Take care now.” She says. I block her out. My throat is dry. My eyes misty. I need a break, if only for a little while. If only for a bottle of water. 

He tries to defend me against her. She says something about him choosing me over her. My head hurts. I cannot understand the conversation. The room starts spinning so I lean against the door. She is having his baby. 

As I feel my heart break, he asks me if I am alright. But what do I tell him? What do I tell the love of my life? That he had ruined us? No. He will raise the child with regret. 

I walk out the bedroom door and start down the staircase. One. Two. “Babe?” He calls out to me. “Yes?” “Don’t leave” he says to me. In the same tone he called to me in before I left earlier. He doesn’t know that this time, I am not leaving. He got me back inside, and that is where I was staying, Floozy or not. Oh… Pregnant floozy or pregnant not. I was staying. 

Step three. She comes out of the bedroom. “Sharing a moment are we?” Her arms are folded across her chest to try and emphasize her disappearing bossom. I stare at her. Try to see what he saw in her. What he sees in her. She is everything I am not. Loud, slim and messy. Looks like an elongated twelve year-old. Her adolescent years seem to have been lost on her. 

Forth step down. She rushes to me and grabs my arm. I look up at her, only because she is two steps higher. He looks at us in despair. “Please let me go”. I say calmly and as a question. 

“Leave my house!” She says… Or rather shouts. 

I look at her blankly. 

She swings her hand, in a motion as if to land on my cheek, but she misses and hurts herself by the staircase railing. Blindly and with rage in her eyes, she swings again, and I know this was a bad one since her throat made a growl-like sound. I step back and watch her fall. She screams. It terrifies me, but I stand there. Watching. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine… 

Why did there have to be so many steps? The blood started at around the eighth… Or was it the twelfth. I am not sure. But the trail of the thick and scarlet liquid that once flowed in her veins lines the staircase down to the floor. 

He rushes to her, Reaches when there is a pool already. I can’t move. I still stand on the third step, unsure of how to breathe. My eyes fixed on her face which is now strained with what cannot be mistaken to be something else other than pure and agonizing pain.


Ever connected with someone at a level so deep, you know you can never dig yourself out even if you tried? 

And not with just anyone. Not a person you have grown up with, or a school mate you we’re forced to interact with. I’m talking of an eruption of friendship and closeness with a total stranger. 

Someone you shared a table with at a random restaurant or we’re introduced to for the first time by a mutual friend. Someone you never saw coming, so being set up does not count. Someone who just emersed themselves into your life so suddenly that you had to come up for air. So suddenly that you had to literally think of ways to manage the connection. 

Ever had a soft spot for someone you didn’t really know? Whose name you only know the first but it doesn’t really matter because your ship goes beyond last names? 
A connection so concentrated that the chemistry is undeniable. It almost seems animalistic because you have never seen anything like it in humans. 

Ever related to another being so much you think of calling your parents if only to confirm that you do not have a long lost twin? So much that you feel like dancing all around a room full of strangers, because you know they can never have what is between your new friend and you. 

Ever known someone so well that you finish their sentences and they yours on your second meet? That you give them your secrets, those intricate parts you hold dear, unknowingly, and only realize it when the damage is done. 

Ever had that one person, that one angel, sent to you and only you because they belong in your life? 
Have you ever had that? 

Because I don’t believe I have.



First things first, I need to calm my nerves. I didn’t think you would actually read the letter I sent. My hands are shaky, I can’t even hold a glass of water right. I’m sweating through the keyboard right now. At one point I think I forgot to breathe. But that could just be this weather and maybe I am coming down with a cold. You know how terrible my flu usually is, I need not explain. 

Now, I have a few concerns about the said reply letter that got to me early Sunday morning. 

One. In your letter you said that you will always blame me for all your regrets, because… And I quote “I treated you like you were nobody to me”. Jesse do you hear yourself? You egotistical maniac! I wish you were nobody to me. I wish there was even the tiniest bit of truth to your words, because then my heart would not break as it does. I wish you were just that nobody, because I would be able to close my eyes for more than 10 minutes without seeing you in the dark. How I wish your words were true you selfish bastard, just so I would be able to live my life again. 

Two. You say that if you were to tell me either the truth or the lies (which in this case are the same to you), that I would still leave you cold. But come on Jesse, who left who in the first place? With no valid reason. With not as much as a mere explanation. Who broke who? Tell me Jesse. Who gave up on our forever. Who let forever fade away? I know the answer to these questions cannot be me, especially since I am crying myself to sleep every night.

Three. You want another chance. With who? Me? Because no. I do not accept. You want to make me your plaything once more. You only want to toy with me and leave when I get so hooked to you that I can’t breathe when you are away. You want to make me the carcass I was when I was with you. You want to choke the little life I have left in me. No Jesse. Not again. I may be breaking each day, but I am fixing myself. And each tomorrow is better than every yesterday. 

Four. Please never mention forever to me. That is not a word that should ever come out of your treacherous lips. Do me a favor, and don’t even think of thinking about forever. You are not worth being anybody’s forever. You are not a being that can fathom the meaning of such a powerful word. 

Five. Well… I need to laugh here first. You need the life we had back? Really darling? Say it out loud and see if you sound believable. Because I am sure you cannot even get through the want part of that statement. I have heard too many of your lies, and I am not getting sucked back in. Not anymore. Find another to feed these empty promises to. Not this Julia. 

Six. “This time I promise never to hurt you again, or walk away, or leave you alone” Damn. I think you took a class so as to write that letter. You really sound true. Any other girl could totally believe you. But na-ah. Not this Julia. I don’t want your promises. And that’s my final word on this. 

And Jesse, I wish I was strong enough to lift not one, but both of us. Sadly… I am forced to choose. 

I love you Jesse. And since you finish your letter saying you hate wondering if I am safe… Hell yeah. I am. I’m surrounding myself with positivity and real people. I am focussing on me, I eat well, and healthy-ish. I am treating myself the way you should have but didn’t. And I love me more now than I ever did you. 

Goodbye Jesse. 

Love, Julia.



Well, I’m 20

I have lived happy

Loved many

Felt crappy

Broken few

Been broken

But I still smile

I still live

Because there are many who no longer do

I still love

Because there are those who have never felt it

I still get to feel crappy

Because bad days are always right there

Life may not be clear

Mainly because I will still love

And for this I will still get burnt

But I’m only 20

And nobody gets to judge

Because being 20

I am allowed mistakes

I am allowed to bend some rules

Allowed to make my own decisions

So if you look this way 

And feel like walking away

I too will not judge


Till I’m older

Then I Was Knocking

I decided on the sleek Mercedes taxi because I know he never liked the ordinary. I needed him to know that I still knew him, even in the details he hides from the world. 

Three months apart had done its damage to us, but now that I was back, I was going to look him straight in the eye and say that I was going nowhere. That he is stuck with me. That no two month piece that he had would destroy us. Now that I was back, we would pick up from April. So I walked up to his door and knocked.

At first I thought he wasn’t home, then I remembered I had told him that I would be coming over. He couldn’t have left. I turn the knob and it is unlocked, so I push back the door and he is standing right there, behind it. Why didn’t you open when I knocked? I want to ask. But he looks so different. He looks as if he died and was just resurrecting on my arrival. This is not the man I left behind. Perhaps my leaving sucked the life out of him.

So I hug him. Because I fear he might collapse before my very eyes. I hold him close to me to affirm that I will not ever leave him alone. That I am back for good. In this moment I look around, and it seems as if he has been living on his own. I sigh. I doubted him for no reason. Surely this house lacks the all-time coveted female touch.

But then there is a voice in the other room, and I pray to my ancestors it is not what I think, my prayers turn out vain. She pops a messy head from my kitchen. “There’s no milk. Could you get some?” I can’t believe this! How dare he let me hold him in comfort when he still had the floosy in the house? I had told him I was to come so as to avoid something like this. But he did not respect me enough.

I turn to take my leave. I cannot stay in here. The air is too thick. I can’t breathe right. I need to leave to avoid a scene. I was never one for them. He says my name. So softly. So sweetly. The same way he said it before I left in April and my heart breaks.

Without turning to him I turn the knob the other way, open the door, close it behind me and put my back to it. My chest burns like hell. He said he would wait. He promised he would. I slide down his door and find the ground. I don’t remember when the tears started falling.

“Then she was knocking…” never disappoints. This was one amazing but unfinished piece. I am working on it. Hope I will measure up.


I have this friend, who I love with all my heart. I love her to the moon and back especially because she has the brightest of souls. She brings light to a room when she walks into one. She is the kind that I know I can count on, no matter what. Let’s call her Shirley.
Shirley is amazing. And I’m not just saying that because I want a pack of oreos next time she comes visiting. I’m not saying she is so just to get a couple of eclairs from her next time I see her. But I like to think that Shirley is a magician. She has this one trick; The Disappearing Act.She is genuinely a remarkable being, when she is single that is.


Shirley totally changes on me when a guy touches into the folds of her heart. She goes inside out on me, one of her best friends. Shirley totally blocks me out. She builds a wall in between her life and the new catch. She goes all in every single time. Reason: She has found “The One”.
When Shirley has a boyfriend, you could make plans, because you miss each other and it has indeed been a while, plan everything out, the food, the venue, how many people are invited or it is just the two of us, and she won’t show up. She will, probably a month later, tell you that the boyfriend called or needed a hug that one cold night.
Shirley becomes a moth drawn into a flame that is the opposite sex. She becomes a hyena to a lion’s scraps. She gets so attached that nothing can break her concentration on the guy.
Woo unto you if you dare tell Shirley that her new boyfriend is a cheat or a flirt. Tell her even that she is too good for him and see your contact get deleted right in your face. You are doomed if you say you have heard rumours that he isn’t at all a saint. Because to Shirley, her boyfriend is her Messiah. He is the one good grain from a pile of chaff, which you have now joined.


And I’m used to this. Every time Shirley shuts me out, I wait one or two months at most to get that ever so farmiliar text on Instagram or facebook telling me to text her and that she “lost all contacts”. I wait on that text because it always comes, and Shirley comes a-knocking, with my oreos and eclairs, to cry on my ever warm shoulder, till the next catch arrives. And I don’t mind it. Because I know she is always there, somewhere.
I love you Shirley.