April 21, 2024

What do you say to a girl you met on Instagram, a girl you’ve felt vexed at for unfollowing you, one you’ve socially stalked and wondered if you’d ever meet, and when you finally do get the chance to meet her, you stare at her for long-friggin-minutes after she’d all but dried her teeth in…

April 20, 2024

You’ve heard it said that every bestseller was once a germ of an idea. Ask ten authors how they brought their ideas to life, and each would tell you their not-so-similar processes. While most authors—me inclusive—would swear on coffee and a select few on alcohol, most would agree that the process is never clear cut,…

April 18, 2024

You didn’t care about the lingering glances your presence drew. All your eyes held were mine. Did you hear my heart drop to my panties? Beat, beating into drip, drops, dripping plops. We must have held hands, A brief touch of hello ‘Cause the things inside of me ceased, Dead silence. You called me beautiful….

April 17, 2024

In a time not too long ago. Wait. I’m dated and it’s a time long forgotten. Still, once upon a beautiful time A man sees a woman he likes. He asks about her and begins plans to romance his way into her heart. He comes by her house. Braves her overprotective dad. Charms her mom….

April 14, 2024

She meets a guy she likes. He doesn’t call or text as often as she’d like. Yet she shrugs it off and says, “It’s nothing. English is not his first language.” It’s not a habit per se, It’s just his thing. He likes being chased, Satisfied with having her call and text him. So, she…

April 13, 2024

There are different types of cold that would catch you in this life. Harmattan cold and rain-beat-you cold. The worst cold that would ever catch you is the cold from this type of text message. Baby, I’m pregnant. It’s yours. This type of cold can never leave you. Or me. Pregnant? How can she be…

April 13, 2024

I am three.  No. Four.  No. I am three. Who cares, though? “Let me out,” I cry, hitting the door. praying it’ll open, save me.  “If you open that door, I will beat you,” Maami says. Her face cloaked in the shadow of the kerosene lamp.  She picks up the blade, “Come here.”  I see…