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Love & Heartbreak Series: No 2

Dear Lover,

You know
How high and fortified the walls were
How beaten and shredded and broken my heart was
How strong the resolve- not to fall victim to love’s vain promises- was
How intensely I fanned the fear of vulnerability.

You came
Wielding Cupid’s famed arrow, pointed and precise
Neglecting how the signs screamed red
You shot directly at my core
Permeating my pneuma with the ingenuity of your love,
Like the Trojan horse, sans the deceit

Your deep throated laughter,
Whilst your head is thrown backwards,
With your eyes glistering with tears,
Has become my favourite sound

And you know what my favourite sight has become?
Watching your face light up,
With the blush cutting through your dark skin,
When I call you mine

You, my hot glass of dark chocolate,
Topped with honey and hazelnut
Our destinies have become so intertwined,
Like Siamese twins defying all neurologic procedures

And just a stare in your eyes,
Gives me a wholesome glimpse of our forever
Filled with laughter and friendship
And surfing on sandy beaches

And even as I write this,
I long for you with all my being
Your warm, alluring lips,
As they press against and interlock mine
Your soft, sweaty palms, as they enclose mine

And as they rummage through my frame,
Sending sparks of pleasure throughout my body
And the way my body helplessly submits,
And my defences collapse like a pack of cards,
whenever we are together

And in our most intimate moments,
When you look into my eyes…
And hold my gaze…
With your warm breath falling on my skin…
And say you love me,
I am so convinced it’s not a bromide.



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Dear Paramour,

Indeed I felt the jab of Cupid’s arrows.
I laugh, and my face lights up.

The flames of destiny passed a warm loving heat for me.
My heart is stirred by a meeting of the lips.

Those intimate moments are the highlights of my day.
The gaze into the eyes of my true love,
The whisper of my genuine affections,
The sweetness of embrace.

But. Alas, you were right.
It’s not you, it’s me,
You were right and I was wrong.
Mere cliches and platitudes,
Unfortunately, these are not

You were right to have fanned
The flames of fear and fortifications.
You were right about the Trojan horse.
All of this, I did to get your sweet sister.

You were just a means to an end…
Every passion I feel,
I feel not for you
My affections are really for your sister.


Kindly remember to drop your comments below. Thank you.










Love & Heartbreak Series: No. 1

This series is a compilation of beautifully crafted writings by members of the Literary Cafe (TLC) Plus as part of their daily tasks. So the first series is from Debbie; the lover & Daniel; the heart-breaker. I hope you enjoy reading it.

PS. This is a work of fiction. However, the characters are real.

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Letter 1

Daniel Darling,

If I were to tell you how much I loved you,
Then the waters of the ocean would dry up
The lands would be empty of sand
And I would still not be able to quantify
My love for you.

If I were to add you and me
I would subtract our clothes
And maybe let you divide my thighs
So we can multiply the times you make heavy
My love for you.

If I were to whisper in your ears
The strong passionate love you make me feel
Every time our breath shares a common space
It would be that my tongue has lost its mind
And I am prepared to explode in satisfaction
Of my love for you.

If I were to take the shape of your hands
I will gladly roam your body at every bath
At every scratch of your itchy face,
I’ll caress your cheeks and let you bite
The fingers that is me when you feel nervous
Because of my love for you.

Oh Dan, the night is getting cold without you by my side
But then I remember I met you yesterday
And that you left your warm hugs with me
So I run to grab the shirt I wore to the event
And lay it beside me…it smells of you
It smells so good my heart burst with excitement.

Oh Dan, let me paint your body with my love
Let me drink of the alcoholic goodness served by your lips
Oh please wrap me in the spell of your warm embrace and cuddles
For even though nothing lasts forever
My memory can last forever in your embrace
Just hold me tight, please.


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Images culled from Google.
Letter 2

Daniel Sugarplum,

I have never felt this way before
For someone I really truly adore
No matter what I get from you
My passion won’t vanish anymore
For I am wildly in love with you Dan.

Your abs and beards are just a masterpiece
For which I will give my life and more
Your smile just shines up my day
When nothing goes the right way.

All I need right now Dan
is just to embrace you with the pretty face
Just a sip of your almost pink lips
While my arms wait around your hips
Oh how madly in love with you am I Dan

I want to feel your body shiver
Your heart jumping off your chest
I want to smell your gorgeous scent
Kiss you in each and every inch
I want to feel you rise below
Only at my presence & every touch

Oh! Dan, I love the way you hold your lower lip
Between the jaws while you think
I miss the act I repeat to tease you
Your words echoing all the time
Still, I die to hear those words from you

Oh! My love where are you? Where are you?
Come Daniel let’s consummate this love already!



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Dear Debbie,

Is it you?
Is it me?
As far as my uncertainty goes,
one thing is sure,

I do not love you
Never have, never will
I read your letters,
The words made my eyes roll more times
than a pair of casino dice on a Friday night

Could I love you?
I can’t do the impossible
I was like you once,
Young, foolish and in love

I loved a woman
a woman who said she loved me,
She left me in a pool of tears,
and with a black hole where my heart used to be

I know you will say you love me enough for both of us,
Your love, surplus as it is, means nothing to me
When you say you love me and all my flaws
I laugh,
Life is not a romance novel or an Ed Sheeran song

Some things cannot be fixed
I am not a pet project or a sick puppy
I am a Yoruba demon,
a thing to be exorcised not cuddled

Sister Deborah,
this is not me breaking your heart
this is me setting the records straight,
you fell in love with a wrecking ball
now your heart is just like mine,
in pieces.


Please don’t forget to leave your comments below, the writers are happy to know what you think.

Thank you.


Alpha Series – B’s Beast

PS: So we were given a task by Kofo on TLC [The Literary Cafe] whatsapp page and I thought it would be a good idea to do a story of it as well. You can check out similar posts on the Alpha-series on Kofo’s blog here . Enjoy!

You can read previous post here on Alpha Series – ‘A’s story .

You hurt me more than what I deserve because I loved you more than what you deserve…”

“The saddest kind of sad is when your tears can’t even drop and you feel nothing. It’s like the world has just ended. You feel nothing. You don’t cry. You don’t hear. You don’t see. You stay. For a second, the heart dies!”

Before I begin to intimate you of how I have managed to live my life up to this point, let me start by telling you how not so happy my story will end – so this is me saying, it is not a happy-ever-ending tale.

By and Large, I have an ugly past, an ugly present and possibly an ugly future. I hate to sugarcoat my words so I will tell you all plainly my bitter experiences.

Born and bred in the suburb of Bonny Island, Rivers sometime in the late 80’s, I did not get exposed to much and thus I did not need or require much. All that I needed – that my people needed was shelter, food, water and basic friendship and we had all that – I think. I was not born in a home of plenty but I was thought to learn to manage the basic things that nature could naturally provide.

Basic things such as water – we had surplus from the river close to the island, Food – well, we had lots of crabs and fish, fruits and legumes, and we had where to lay our heads. We did not need to go to school, neither was the idea thought up in our heads – it did not make sense to think of education at the time. We were taught how to fish and make nets. We learnt how to swim and wade the waves that come with the river tides. We learnt how to hide from the strange red looking people who always came by our river facing the Bight of Bonny – I think they were called tourists.

Biannually, we would usually have a mini-festival for Virgins – both male and female category. It was celebrated for adolescents from the ages of ten [10] to Nineteen [19]. People who had attained the ages of Twenty and above were usually supposed to have been married. If not, by twenty-two [22], they become ostracized and sent out of the island so as not to beguile others into their way of life. The girls would during the festival, usually cover their breasts with two mound sized empty oysters and wear below their waist, animal skinned wrappers. The males would cover their area with Palm tree wraps and wear on their neck beaded crabs ornaments. This was done in reverence to the river as well as the earth that kept the children of the community till the festival period – so it was believed and so it was practised.

Bemused as I was at this process, I still had to participate to avoid any form of being ostracized. I had nowhere to go and I did not think I was brave enough to venture out on my own.

Besides, It was hardly unheard of that anyone would want to be ostracized from the community. Several girls ended up with one man to avoid been called names or leaving the community.

Barefooted on the eve of the festival, I had ran towards the river bank to seek the coolness of the water and wonder what lay ahead of me now that I had turned Eighteen [18]. Very soon, I would be required to get married and start-up my own family. How possible would that even be, seeing that I was not even ready or mature to nurture my own self?

“Berema…” I heard someone call from a distance. I looked behind me to catch Awusa and Finima running towards my direction. I was in no mood for a chit-chat so I looked back at the water and continued throwing back the crabs I had caught back into the water.

“Berema…” Finima continued when she got to where I was seated, “Did you not hear the announcement that was made earlier today?” I ignored her comments and continued my throwing “Why are you here like you are not meant to be a part of us? Are you not going to participate in tomorrow’s festival?” I stopped throwing and stood up still looking straight at the water.

Baptizing my legs in the river’s warmth, I let the waters flow back and forth, caressing the sole of my feet and my ankles, as I moved in deeper. I did not like to be disturbed in moments like this, I did not understand why Finima could not just go away on her own in peace. Awusa watched in silence as Finima proceeded to drag me back from the water.

Bereft of strength, I splashed back to the floor and picked the nearest possible crab to fling at her. Awusa caught my hand from behind. He was stronger than both of us, so it was a given that I could not have fought back totally.

Belligerent as I was, he held me captive in his bosom.

“Berema…” he started. All I could hear was his baritone and nothing more. I was confused. Was he calling my name? “Berema, what has been going on with you for the past few days? Why have you been so distant?” he asked. I looked away as I refused to answer his looming question with Finima looking at me like I was some theif.

Bizzare as it sounded, I could not trust my friends to tell them anything. I mean, I do not think any one cared about anything apart from themselves. How was I to tell them about the beast I faced every night on weekdays – weekends are for family, booze and friends? How was I to tell them I was never a virgin ever since I started attending the festivals? How was I to tell them how I had been constantly raped by my Father since I was five [5]? How was I to tell them that the self-acclaimed Virgin festival was just a mockery to the gods we served? How was I to tell them that I was not ready to marry anyone from our Island? How was I to tell them that I wanted to see what lies beyond our Rivers? How was I to tell them that I had liked Awusa ever since I was old enough to know what it meant to like and touch?

Bethrothed he was already to Finima and I had no choice than to be happy for them. Awusa was already Twenty and tomorrow would be Finima’s last Virgin festival rite before she married Awusa. Finima is Eighteen [18] like me too and happy to be getting married. Would I blame her? It is all we live for and hope for here at Bonny Island. After all, Finima would join the successful others since Awusa was a bonafied fisherman and a rider of ferries for the ‘red-looking-people’.

Blotches were all over my legs but I had to keep them hidden in wrappers to avoid raised eyebrows and several questioning. My three [3] brothers hardly stay home so they are not aware of what father keeps doing to me. I cannot tell them for fear that someone might strike someone and somebody may die. I cannot handle another death. Mother’s departure still frightens me. I cannot seem to get over it. I do not want to get over it. I want to join her.

Blinded I was by hope. Hope that something would change and liberation would fall upon us. Hope that the ban of marriage would be lifted from the age of Twenty and moved to maybe twenty-eight [28]? Hope that someone would come to save me from the clawing hands of my black impish father. Hope that I would maybe die and go to a peaceful place.

Blatantly, I look at my two friends and smile aloof. There was nothing I wanted to say. There was nothing to say. Tomorrow is just going to be another lie, clothed in wrappers and oyster covered breasts and a virtual walk of shamelessness.

Bickering about the issue was pointless. Talking about the beast I faced every night on the weekdays between my legs was pointless as well. I had grown used to it. I no longer had feelings. I just wanted to leave Bonny Island.

Blimpish as my father was, it was hard to tell the truth about him. I stretch my legs into the water as I feel the sands rush with the water and settle beneath the back of my knee. Awusa is caressing my face and looking at me worriedly. Finima is holding my hand and smiling at me. I want to tell her. I look at Awusa. I can not bear to let him hear my ordeal.

Bracing up myself, I make to stand as I pull away from Awusa’s hold. I fall upon Finima as I hear her laugh at me. I join her in laughing too. Her laughter is throaty and husky. It is easy to sway someone to join her in her laughter. It is mesmerizing.

Baroque music is the next thing I hear. I turn and see Awusa singing for us both. It is hard not to smile. His words are choicy and touchy. I feel the need to cry. My throat is heavy. I gasp for breathe. My bones become brittle.

Breathing hoarsely, I quickly move away. I may explode if I stayed there much longer. Somebody grabs me from behind… “Leave me please.” I surrender “I need to fix my attire for tomorrow’s festival” I reply without turning to face him. I know it is Awusa that has held me back. I hope he does not feel the pain in my voice.

Bruising in pain, I hear Finima’s feeble reply “Let her go, Awusa…Come, let’s go and join the others at the Kongo house.” I feel Awusa letting his hands off me as I run away in shame.

Alpha Series – ‘A’s story

PS: So we were given a task by Kofo on TLC [The Literary Cafe] whatsapp page and I thought it would be a good idea to do a story of it as well. You can check out similar posts on the Alpha-series on Kofo’s blog here . Enjoy!

“Beginnings are usually very scary and endings are usually very sad but it is everything in between that makes it worth living…” 

Acknowledge my presence as I strut into your head with my words. Hello there, I should manage to say…let me introduce myself properly.

Amanda is my name, okay maybe my second name not my first. Daddy called me Oludare a lot but I prefer Amanda – until after he died.

A day before I was born, Mummy said Daddy prayed a lot, a lot for a boy. They had waited 7 years for another child after my sister and they both wanted a boy.

Agreeing not to do a sex scan, they hoped in God’s will and waited patiently till I was born.

Alas, I broke everyone’s heart and turned out to be a girl.

Arrival of a boy or not, a new child was born and day by day, my parents slowly came around to embracing me as the child they needed.

Although, it wasn’t easy for me in the beginning, having to grow up thinking there was a mistake to me, but somehow it prepared me for tougher tasks ahead.

Aspiring to be just like my Daddy and more was everything I could dream of. I needed to make him proud, I needed to make him want me, I needed to make mummy see Daddy in me…it became my daily mantra.

Actions of strength, courage and independence became my daily attitude. There was no room nor time to depend on parents who thought I should have been a boy, even at age 6.

Adolescence passed me by even before I became a teenager. It was pointless having to wonder what it felt like to finally grow two mounds of flesh on my chest region or what it felt like to have a boy kiss you or what it felt like to have the regular Monthly flow or what it felt like to receive flowers and fall in love or what it ever felt like to have a boy just smile at you and melt your heart. That would have been gay for me. I was already a boy from the very start!

Alternatively, I was what you regularly referred to as ‘Tom-boy’. I indulged in swimming and Athletics ranging from Marathons to Sprints to High Jump and the Pole vault. I played the cricket with my Daddy and Lawn tennis with my elder sister. I would have played football as well at junior high but I just did not fit in with all the other macho boys. So I began to work out and tone my muscles a bit. Daddy was excited, I could tell.

At Academics, I was on top of the bright list. I did not waiver in my position, after all there was no negative distraction. I knew I had bigger responsibilites ahead so I put in all my efforts.

Acquintances, I had. Associates, I made but no real friends. Why? Because none could understand me and what the girls cared to talk about were boys, fashion, food and free money. No real challenge of some sort. I hated gossips, so I distanced myself from girls and their prying eyes. Yes, I did have two male friends; Oscar and Martín. They challenged me. They saw me as a fellow. They treated me with equal hands. There was no talk about girls or fashion, only future goals and aspirations.

An Adult I soon became and I felt greatly responsible for all my Daddy’s asset and estate. I was done with College and Masters, distinction in both, yet I felt cheated. Why didn’t I get a scholarship for a Doctorate degree? Was I any less deserving? Daddy and mummy had been proud nontheless but I had a higher standard and goal.

After Daddy put me in charge of administering most of his estates and asset, I thought nothing else could go wrong. With big sis married and two (2) kids of her own, I began to dream of having my own mini family. Problem was, at age 25, I had never been in a single relationship, never given any guy the chance, never thought i’d ever need to, never thought I would need any form of intimacy. I was happy in my own self but now I began to feel lonely, began to need a soft touch of another, began to wonder how my lips would react to being kissed. I cried some times on my bed, knowing I may never get that feeling.

Admitting that I had money was not the problem. I was rich, young and independent. I was smart, strong, Bold and beautiful. That was not my problem as well. My problem? I needed a man. I wanted a man. I was already 28, what was I to do?

Ask the bible said, and you will receive. Oh did I ask? I started asking men out but after a week or two, i’d realize, they were not my type. They had no real value, no sense, no standards…I couldn’t deal.

Allowing myself to wallow in self pity, I soon buried my head into work and forgot about my intimacy cravings. However, several years later it came back. Martín got married and Oscar and myself were obviously in attendance. Best friends of the groom. I felt proud knowing my one true friend was getting married but deep down, my heart began to envy and itch for a soulmate.

Aristo I found myself becoming at age 37. I began to like girls, their lushious curves and shapes and the firm mounds on their chest – something I didn’t have in abundance. I let myself be deflowered by the use of sex-toys and vibrators. The dudes were just not working hard to hold my attention, so I leaned more to being a ‘sugar-auntie’ to the girls I found witty and whimsical.

Auspiciously, I found Christ at age 48 and wondered why I hadn’t thought of becoming a nun. I stopped being a sugar-auntie, I stopped living in nightly puffs of smoke and bath-tubs of alcohol. I stopped living in the fast lane because it only drove me insane and brought me shame & pain.

Adopting kids became my next option but seeing how hard it was, I opened a kiddies-shelter for the abandoned babies and less-privileged. Daddy and mummy gave me all the support I needed. I later realized, I had put too much pressure on myself from the very beginning. I forgave myself and my parents as well.

Answering Natures call, Daddy died at age 106 and 3 months after, mummy followed suit. I didn’t want to be consoled. I didn’t know where else to turn. Daddy left me with so many assets, so many wealth – yet I felt powerless, I felt alone. I had lost a true friend, my confidante.

After-all, I was the boy he never had. My foundation became his kids and mine; bearing his name, my surname. I know he is smiling down at me, I now answer to the name Oludare. Forget the no man thing, I am my own ‘man’ and I am happy with these kids. I look forward to nurturing them in the right manner. Thanks to my sister, I get a few tips now and then.

Do leave your comments on the box below. I hope you enjoyed the read?