I once created literary art, With blood drawn from my broken heart. The words flowed endlessly, How could it not? With an abundance crimson fluid gushing out uncontrollably, As the cracks in my poor love centre elongated. Because of this, I was declared a lyricist in her prime. But I have watched my creativity sublime, …

The Line.

Have you ever been so lost in the sauce that you wouldn’t feel offended if oxford dictionary replaced the definition of stupid with your name? That was Akeela and it had been her for a while now - giving out passes, lowering standards, crossing boundaries, accepting disrespect, you name it. All because love was pure …


I don’t want to write Or sing or read Don’t want to create Yet another piece or poetry. Not one of love Or lust or affection Not while I crave Your undivided attention. I don’t want to feel Or long for or need Temporary moment of comfort A blessing and a curse indeed. A.


I can only write in your absence, As the pain lurks through, Occupying emptiness with loneliness, On land where compassion once grew. It propels my imagination, Encourages my lyrical hand, Broadens my diction, While bringing me back to my homeland. So, walk away for a month or two, To get my creative juices flowing, My …


Forehead kisses Romantic retreats Thoughtful surprises Fingers interlocked Bodies touching Souls speaking Emotions deepening Both hearts unknowingly falling Love, A X