Summer nights
Bonfires and red cups
Wicked games in motion
Your eyes on mine
Continue reading “Even When We’re Apart”God's Own
Summer nights
Bonfires and red cups
Wicked games in motion
Your eyes on mine
Continue reading “Even When We’re Apart”
Her name was Nigeria
Continue reading “Nigeria”
(Previously published on Naijastories)
Love me, you said.
Want me, you said.
Need me, you said.
Foolishly, I did all that and now I’m lost, drowning in the chaos that is you.
On this table, there are some men that have decided to keep messing with our feelings and not commit to us. They hide under the umbrella of “The Talking Stage”. Yes, you read that! It’s dating but due to the pandemic, you can’t go out or travel as you used to; so, many hearts are stuck “talking” to their romantic interests online. The catch is, you don’t know if he really wants to see you but can’t because of the pandemic or if he’s really just fooling you and using the pandemic as an excuse.
Continue reading “The Talking Stage”
(Previously published as My Cop on Naijastories)
My cop.
Words can’t describe what she is, who she is.
I tried and I just got lost.
So here’s what I managed to put down;
Music was my first love…I remember singing along to Mariah Carey as I cleaned on Saturdays. I remember the speaker that let out such wonderful tunes while I and my siblings danced to it.
Continue reading “For The Love Of Music”
The second category are the ones we call The IJGBs aka “The I just got back.”
Continue reading “With Love From Lagos pt 2”
Lagos, Lagos, Lagos. A beautiful city filled with unique sets of beings. The heart of Nigeria.
Continue reading “With Love From Lagos”
To celebrate women and our special month, here’s a piece I wrote after observing the ways of men and the society we live in.
Continue reading “The Crime Against Women”
They say a woman’s place is in the kitchen of a man – her father, but preferably, her husband. The perfect quality they say is the presence of the gag in her mouth. One without a gag will run you down with just a sting of her tongue. That was my mother, the woman without a gag.
Continue reading “Mother”