Tell me what I can do.
Tell me what I have done.
Tell me what I ought to do.
Tell me what I should have done.
Tell me.


It's not you, it's me.
I really don't know how to explain this
But I don't have the will to love you again.


It's not you, it's me.
You love too much and I cannot handle it.
You care too much and I can't accept it.


It's not you, it's me.
You want commitment but I am a traveller.
I want a love that is fleeting, you want forever and a day more.

It's not you, it's me.
I love you too but only for a while.

I saw the way she looked at you

And I waited to see how your eyes would reciprocate.

I stood afar off and watched your gaze move slowly,

From the slender hands that held the wine glass

To the blood red lipstick that smiled at you

To eyes that invited you to exotic worlds

And over the top of her exotic hair

Until it rested on the face of another.

Mine.

In a world of many distractions, your eyes choose to focus on me.

I love us.

I love how far we've come

I love what we share.

I love the future we look forward to

I love the way you look at me.

I love the way you hold my hands,

I love the laughter that begins from your stomach

And ends with a smile that lights up your eyes.

I love us.

But much more than these, I love you.

I started to write you a letter
Dear unborn baby.
But instead I wrote another
And mailed it to myself.

I realize I owe you a lot
A good name, daddy and life.
I realize I must prepare myself
Body, mind and spirit
If I am to do good by you.

So before your first cries fill the room
Or we gather to celebrate your arrival
Before the African celebrations begin
Or the Jollof rice is passed round

While I still have the chance to choose you a good good father
While I still have the chance to watch, Pray and work.
Let me write my to-do list.
And diligently tick each box as I await your arrival.

So when the nurses shout, "push!"
A woman helped of the Lord would welcome you
While a responsible man kneels by the bed whispering prayers.
And together they will provide, teach, love and instruct you.

She fell in love with the man we called husband
We were all part of her love story.
As she walked towards her future and
with watery eyes turned to wave us goodbye
we sealed her fate with cries of "don't worry."

"He's a good man and he'll take care
of you and the babies you will bear.
In five years time you will get used to
The rhythm and pressures of marriage.
Be like your friend, Ta Sallah...three children and counting."

She fell in love with a man she called husband.
Did she or we assumed, planned and gave our blessing
To what she considered a curse and prison.
They said they found him naked and unconscious
Hoping to consumate the union which he had bought.

The doctors wondered why his daughter was huddled in a corner
But the riddle was solved when she was named as one of the wives.
"He was biting me," she said in between sobs.
The poor thing wasn't even mature enough to understand foreplay.
She was not in love with the man we called husband.

He lies unconscious on a hospital bed while society ridicules her for her actions.
Now, he's the victim and she's the criminal.
He took her innocence yet all you see is a wicked woman.
There lies your mistake...
She is the infant bride of a bearded old man.

Can we go on a date somewhere
Where the setting sun kisses the horizon
And the colour orange remind us
Of a love rekindled like a blazing
Torch lit to lighten up darkened alleys.

Can we be friends and blank out Wi-Fi
Seek solace in a love platonic
And  that is only allowed to grow
If the feeling is mutual?
Can you be you while I be me
As we gradually make room for "us"...

There is a place beyond logic
Where explanations are replaced
By soft looks, teasing smiles and shared pizza.

There is a place beyond explanations
Where words do not speak
And silent is effective.
And the whole world will stand still
When love finally had a face.