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I am battling insomnia and some anxieties tonight. And I remember today is the 3rd of March. Ahh, this woman’s birthday. It feels good, thinking about you. Everything about you.

I miss the days we run and walk in the mornings as the sun rises on your polished skin and the nights at bistros and galleries where your laughter and light gossips made that city of Lagoons breathable. Felt good. Even the memories of it taste better. Like old wine or old whiskey. Something about alcohol getting better with time.

Well, tonight, I drink every moment I have shared with you. It feels good. And I hope I get to make more intoxicating memories with you in different cities, dear friend.

You deserve all the best today and forever. May you live all your lives.

Happy Birthday, Love.

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Picture by author

the air claps its hands
god exhales after a long wait
nothing else matters now
for your lover is the approaching storm
and you flash across the sky
to meet him

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Picture credit: Author

she laid bare with her head in heaven and her hands digging into her body

a constellation of shooting stars is a woman falling into the memories of her shattering, she remembers

humid nights, every passing air was a tease, a boy used his fingers to draw god on the skin of his lover till she saw a glimpse of Jesus second coming: the blast of the trumpet and the rapture of her body

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for Apele

“and birds go flying at the speed of sound
to show you how it all began”
- coldplay

we are on a bed on a hot afternoon
in a university hostel room
our bellies filled with a meal we shared
minutes before we are bound for class
that's one way i remember

you in a wide smile an ever unfolding fist of light writing your story by your heart and not by what was given to you you taught me your name as a song a foreign word you said i still let it out tenderly trembling in grief for…

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Picture credit: Author

thinking of you while you sleep is a forecaster’s nightmare
your twitching eyes could be any dream
and the truth is a cloud gathering in my gut
a familiar rumbling that plays in my head
again and again till the sky breaks

i am the sound of water on things
blowing hard against your pane
the rain can’t help itself i swear

and i don’t want to startle you
from your peaceful life

but a passing storm at 3 am could be strong enough
to leave chaos as a text from your best friend professing love
or be a miserable lullaby that sings till morn
unaware to you in the arms of your lover
but i don’t get to choose
the weather is an act of god

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Credit: Author

in the days after you left,
her breathing finds your ashes floating
between the drapes of the room
lingering like incense wisp,
particles of you roaming
in the air you left behind

you are still alive here
she fans dead embers to invoke your face
and to inhale a history of fervent fire
a museum of smoke built in your name
where she preserves your legacy
by deeply drawing in
the memory of when you burnt for her

she is drowsy on the residues of your body
hiding in the knits of your cardigan
that hugs her so warmly
and her eyes water so slowly
while looking back to you
till she is a pillar of salt
in the trail of your leaving

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Picture credit: Author

after the ignis brothers tune "alien at home"

how many seasons of water do i need to count before you come back to me,
what the fuck

is in the other ends of the galaxy that you search for, too much space makes you a cosmic speck, nobody sees you there like i see you here

on earth, under the clouds on a land and a sky wide enough for my idea of you to run and fly free

from far places but it was an illusion for to love an astronaut is to hate gravity so i fuel a rocket with my tears to plunge into the…

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Picture credit: Author

call him a survivor
all the blood you see on the
surface of the water should be his
close your eyes and have faith
whenever you part your lips to taste his mouth
choose not to see the thousand white things
that are sharp and sometimes bite
choose to define love as
a tease
a dare
and a bluff

hold his fin firmly and listen to your heart it is because you are nervous that is why he is slipping away hold him close you can’t lose this one because the world does not tolerate single sisters and society says…

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your blacked skin too
rises to glow in the morn
here i am sunkissed

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I got plants this year. Just two small pots, one a snake plant and the other arrowheads. While I am still new to raising these green things, I read a whole lot about caring for plants. It was not so at the beginning though, but seeing them every day, I just want to be the best plant dad ever. I always know when new shoots appear and it makes me so happy that there is life birthing and re-birthing in my small room. I take the arrowheads out once a week to get some sun and I frequently check for…

Joshua Omena

Poet. Communications Manager. Daydreamer. Night-crawler.

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