Tag: love

Sex

I couldn’t even really say the word sex out loud until I was 14. Even then it was whispered, or mimed or camouflaged as “banging” or “IT”. Growing up in a semi-conservative African family, sex was one of those things that no one really wanted to acknowledge or talk about.

enough.

 When will you understandThat you will never be beautiful enough  You will never be intelligent enough You will never be adventurous enough You will never  Be Enough  for the man who does not love you  Stop trying to feed someone who starves you You are grinding away your heart,

fading.

At 16. Heartbreak sounded like a thousand buildings crashing down, a tornado, a countless number of sleepless nights and twisted sheets. An unfamiliar pain and tears coming from places you didn’t know could cry  At 20. Heartbreak sounded like a car crash, ambulance sirens, a crime scene filled with broken

adjustment.

My heart is a construction site.  It echoes like a drill in my chest  Slowly coming apart  I sigh deeply  Pushing back the tears that have been welling in my eyes for weeks I pace my room  Gathering courage to leave it.  Everything in here And everything out there  Makes

home.

Home is not where the heart is The heart is always fleeting  So home is always fleeting  Home is where you are now  Where you find solace for now  Where you can be the best version of you now Home is what makes you feel most yourself Exposed yet safe 

refuge.

I’ve been searching for refuge I might as well have been scratching through dustbins overflowing with waste I looked for it in in the walls of churches, in the words of friends, in the beds of lovers, in the pages of books, in the sun, in the moon, in the burnt

posession.

The butterflies in my stomach  Were asleep until I met you  You made my ‘inner-mosts’ run wild  Like a child after 3 ice lollies and a chocolate bar  You made my mind reach across its oceans and pull out the things I thought no one could ever understand  You rescued

beauty…

…A STORY. I looked up at my mother as a child  And thought… I will never be as beautiful as her when I grow up  No woman will ever be As a teenager I watched As my peers started developing Curves on their bodies  And edges in their hearts  I

free.

   It’s a wonderful thing  Having unconventional skin  Waking up  And making a choice To be different  To be more of you than you were yesterday  To hold eye contact To not look down  To not be intimidated by judgement  To be a little free 

xenophobia.

   I left Tanzania when I was 6 years old And since then, every country I’ve lived in. I have been a foreigner. I guess that means I’ve been a foreigner for as long as I can remember. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable, it doesn’t make me anything, and to

Create a website or blog at WordPress.com