Day 4: Dancing

There she was, in the centre of it all, dancing like her life depended on it. I’d be lying if I said all eyes were on her, but sure as hell my eyes were on her. She was stunning, magnificent, like something out of a movie. Her dress was so sexy, I just sat there hypnotised.

When she first walked into the room, with her long train and backless dress, she looked like a bride, like my future bride. I had to go over, just to compliment her, just to tell her how beautiful she was, but she already knew. I mean the way her hips swayed when she walked, the train making her look taller than she was, and she was already very tall. By the time the first song came on, I couldn’t stop talking about her, couldn’t stop looking at her from across the room. She got up and danced with her auntie. She was so full of life.

By the third song, she was dancing with any and every female she could find, cousins, aunties, uncle’s girlfriends, just any female really. She didn’t let a man near her, even as they were creeping closer to her, trying to get her attention on the dance floor. She didn’t pay any attention to them. And all I did was pay attention to her. I just wanted her to dance with me so badly, like the last time I saw her. I mean, I was dying to have her in my arms, but she didn’t even look at me. The whole night, she didn’t even look at me.

I mean, the party was basically over, and there she still was, my dancing queen, still on the dance floor. Hips moving back and forth, her hands following her body’s movement, her head titling backward, just completely in her zone. She still had the same energy as she did at the start of the night, just endless energy. I mean, it’s almost as if she had a point to prove.

For me that’s the thing I remember the most about her. Whenever I close my eyes, I see her on that dance floor, letting the music move her.


Thank you for reading.

Day 3: The Vessel

What defines a vessel better than our hallow flesh, that carries us through time and trials. It has no captain but our minds, that direct its every move.

I’ve read that from the 2nd week of conception, our skins have already been set. Our DNA would have already assigned us skin tones before we even breathe our first breath. Our skin is so gentle during those first days, that doctors advice mothers not to bath their new born. Our skin, so superior, come into this world with abilities to cleanse and moisturise with powers to fight bacteria. It forms, it stretches, breaks and scars, and all through it we play, we smile, laugh and grow.

To joyous youth we ride. Reaching 25 with a gym bag in one hand, and an avocado smoothie in another. We’ve reached our peak, healthier and prettier than we will ever be. Our vessels have never looked better, not a pimple in sight, and firmness all around. Our largest organ knows its job, detecting hot and cold whilst protecting our internal organs are all in a days’ work.

With age, our vessel reaches its final stop. Gone are the days of youth and play, all that is left is sag and excess. Our hands that once stood so elegantly, now transformed by lines and wear. Our faces, we no longer recognise.

No metamorphosis has ever been so complete, to take beauty, youth, grace and wisdom for bones and dirt, and no skin left in sight.

Our vessels are prized possession,

To be cherished and loved.


Thank you for reading.

Day 2: An Unrequited Love Poem

Love unrequited

Is nought but a plague

It makes man doubt their worth

As they crave a better understanding

Of Love, so pure, so good

That brings them face to face with sorrow

A craving of acceptance

A yearning for approval

Increased anticipation

Feeds pain and bring no pleasure

To love so selflessly

Is an act reserved for warriors.


Thank you for reading.

Day 1: Outside the Window

The New Year’s winter morning is warmer than most, by far the warmest I’ve felt all year round. There is no cold, chilling breeze and the frost flakes that usually grace our January mornings have been reported missing. Despite this, the trees still stand tall, almost victorious at the prospect of survival during these winter months. The little flies that gather in groups are still tormenting unsuspecting passer-by’s who happen to stumble into their group home.

I open my window to catch some polluted air, as the layers of clothing piled on me feels suffocating. The air is better than imagined, even my dying plants on my window sill seems to notice. It is a good morning to start 2019. I hear the birds chirping outside, allowing me to imagine that I lived somewhere other than the congested city of London. The pigeons and the cars compete to be heard, each overtaking the other in volume before both are silent. The silence is almost alarming, especially for London, but then again one must remember, it is New Year’s Day. The children have started to leave their homes to enjoy the perfectly pleasant British weather, speaking amongst themselves before agreeing on a game. The parents stand by and chatter amongst themselves, sharing their hopes and dreams for 2019, their newly made resolutions.

The sky’s mass has been overtaken with clouds, not a space left for the sky to peep through. It would be more shocking to the soul to see a blue sky in January, yet I miss the sky. Not once during the month of December did my gaze venture upwards to assess the sky, but today, I feel the need for some blue skies. Checking my weather App, I’ve been informed that the weather is 11 degrees outside. 11 degrees! I’ve seen summer months where 15 degrees was acceptable, and here in the depths of winter, on the very first day of the year, we are blessed with 11 degrees.


Thank you for reading.