Tell me..

Tell me it was just a dream

Tell me it was a lie that

The knot was tied

Tell me it’s not true we made promises

Tell me, tell me I’m still free

Dear you, tell me I’m still ‘alive’

That we ain’t married.


My type.

Like the tides and their times

Precise are her words

Like the stars and sun

Certain; her sentiments

And just like the drafts and wind

Left or right she’s going somewhere

Her speech sieved

Her voice calm, collected

She’s my type of woman, Wise.

I know her

By heart not sight

I know her

Her mind not her name.

It’s her inside that takes my breath

Her outside that’s a bonus

A grace..

The Creator’s grace.


We’re choosing us

It’s spiffing were choosing us

I’m choosing you,

You’re choosing me,

I’ll love to stroke your hair

You’ll love to lie on my chest

I’ll love to watch you struggling into jeans

You’ll love to struck my back

I’ll love you, You’ll love me

But girl, I’ll love it more when we fight

You’ll slap my secrets on my face

I’ll deal your weaknesses yo your face

And it would go no farther

I’ll pull you close

Well embrace

And our bond strong will grow.™


It pretty much wasn’t about the Roman pillars that his arms looked like,

To her it wasn’t all that much about his mellifluous voice that could unbolt screws somewhere in her heart, just by the mention of her name,

She didn’t think it was about his eyes or nose, or was it his beard that made him look like this prince she had met in her dreams as a child, and might his name have been Charming?

She couldn’t be all that sure, maybe he just possessed some magic that turned her on.

She lay on the bed she hadn’t bothered to tuck into all this while, her thoughts preoccupied by the sights of this human that had seemingly been super-glued to her brain.

There’s this unpredictability that came with his words. She found it hard to understand why when he flattered her it sounded like lines from a Spanish soap script.

She had only known him less than twenty four hours,the sun hadn’t risen again since his existence hovered into her visage, but it felt like she’d known him since she got her first inkling of what love could be; back in the day when Cinderella’s tale was still to her a romance novel

Here she lay, staring into the starry night sky and playing out in her mind ‘their’ wedding; her dream beach wedding, Him in purple robes, herself in the shiniest of gowns, the monk with scrolls in hand…..

It took a mosquito bite to jerk her back to reality, to bring her back to the fact that chance might not let them meet again soon. She might not have known what charm he used on her, but she knew one thing, that he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. He’d made her day, or was it her life, and as sure as she could be: she’d fallen In love; AT FIRST SIGHT.

She lay supine.

She lay supine, sun-baked on the lawn
In helpless day-dream

The limerence he’d cast on her reverberating deep in her brains

And his ethereal physique walking her down lobbies in castles her mind’s figments built

She lay supine, moon-wrapped on the same lawn

Star staring

Sensing cromulence in his sweet sentiments

Deeming wicked his praises of her; thinkig his flattery all nefarious.

She loved him, she craved him by day,

She hated him, she loathed him by night,

She lay supine at a crossroads.

Of loner…

It’s been quite a while esteemed readers…and y’all’ve been on my neck since you can’t wait for loner’s chapters to start rolling out. 

Umm, actually, I’m not gonna lie, examinations do scare the hell out of me sometimes and the final exams are just around the corner so things pretty much just have to go the studies way.

Worry not though, I shall resume writing as soon as I’m done with my final paper. Stay tuned, mouthwatering stuff awaits

I hope the air is clear now😁.

The night the moon ate the dark.

It’s that night..

It’s that night again

The night the moon eats the dark a second time

It’s the night the words 

Marching down in jest

Dressed in black..drenched in red

Boots and fatigue…armed to tooth..

Make a grand homecoming

Twice bolder, thrice tough

Four times unabating.

This time with more of target practice

And advanced precision.

It’s the night the dreadful words come out of her mouth


It’s the night their bullets strike straight through my heart

It’s the night their swords slash at their sharpest;

It’s the night…the night she deals me a bold bereft

A second time.

A last time.™