Wind in my hair
Salt on my lips
Taking in my mental escape
This is my go to place, you know....
The beach
I hate the beach, but I love it too all at the same time
I hate large bodies of water, but then again they give me peace
My mental runaway
Just me, walking right there on the water
Wind in my hair, salt on my lips
Aaaaaaah.......my escape!

Love doesnt live here anymore
Checked out years ago
Just uped and left
Oh , but not before it, folded my things up in his bags and strolled out
Like it was nothing
Well, I kinda want my stuff back
I have searched for love
But he is so damn elusive!
I have called the cops, hired private investigators
look at me stalking happy couples
Staring into their eyes for love
Just to tell him, to please give me my stuff back
Where is love?
Please ask him ever so nicely, all y'all who have had a chance encounter with him
All I want is my stuff back....

A cool November breeze
gentle stroked my neck, tossing my hair back, ever so slightly
The smell of wet grass at my feet
I searched it out
A huge sign to say Welcome home,
This place, that I toiled for
This place in my mind, built
Come to reality
This place so far, now I see so clear
I search for the sign to say, Welcome

Another post from way back when...

This is another poem from my old collection.... I realize now that none of my poems had names then....again, I dont know what inspired this poem, but it definitely glistened my eyes!

Life is a tale

A tale told by a fool

Its rather funny

we make wishes and hope they come true

but each time they do

The joke is on you!

Or me?

Yea, perhaps the joke is just on me!

I should just quit

This is  like a drug

a habit I'm trying to curb

Its pretty hard to quit a drug when you're the dealer

A tale told by a fool alright

I'm tired

Too tired

To laugh, cry or show any emotion

Here come the wall

The wall I spent so much time tearing down

Why did you

Cant let it come up again

Cant

I'll fight this

To the end

I'll make this work

Until, I'm finally happy...

A note from a long time ago....

On a recent trip home, to Nigeria, I found a bunch of my old poetry and short story books! Between when I was 13 years old and 17 years old, I found this poem in one of them and I have no clue who this poem is for, but I felt like sharing it any ways! Maybe I'll share more later!

It currently  has no name, but feel free to give it one...

I think of you

And i think of all things, unachievable

I see your face

but I have to ask myself

Is it really yours?

Time and time again,

I see them

and then I remember

a world of hurt and pain

I think a new story will begin with you

but it seems that in the end

I see too much of them in you

I like you

I really do

but i love myself more

and the pain that would be the outcome of being with you

I cant deal with

Please dont beg me, or try to convince me otherwise

There's too much of them in you, the pain is inevitable.

This may really sound selfish

But I've been drowning for too long

And I need to come up for air

I need to breathe

I need to live

......I'm so sorry...

Onyx.................The End

It felt so good to say the word, husband.

We waved goodbye to our friends and family and left to the hotel.

Butterflies flurried in my belly, tonight was the proverbial night where, ‘it was going to go down!’

Thanks to my best friend Ashley, the hotel room was fancied up with rose petals and candles and a sexy lingerie on the bed that would make any strong man turn to mush.

Everything was perfect.

Femi had to dash out for a minute to settle some little dispute between his best-men.

I used that time to slip into something ‘comfortable’.

When he returned, I was sitting on the bed, smelling of lavender and cinnamon.

He slowly crawled up to me and smiled.

“What a day it has been!” he giggled and reached across the bed to where I sat and tickled her.

“How does it feel to be Mrs. Daniels?” he stopped tickling and began to rub my shoulders.

‘Breathe Bimpe breathe’ I psyched myself as new emotions suddenly began to engulf me.

Femi began to touch me and no matter how hard I tried, all I could think of was his step father, mentor, rapist old man.

All I could think of was another place and another time and those words.

“I know you want this, you beg for this all the time.”

Femi pulled back and stared at me.

“What are you doing? What is it? Stop!” he yelled holding my arms.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“It’s ok, it’s only sex, you wouldn’t die, besides we are married now, so there’s nothing wrong with it!” he sighed

“Gosh, you are acting so weird!”

“I’m so sorry” I rubbed my head.

“It was…never mind” I sighed

“Let’s start again!” I giggled and got off the bed.

‘I can do this!’

I tried I really did but like a deck of cards, everything began to fall apart, and quickly.

Before I knew it, I was yelling at him and saying things I didn’t mean.

“This is too messy” I sobbed.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid therapist!”

What was I to do now? I had no idea where he went.

I ransacked the overnight bag; my bridesmaids had filled it with lingerie of different shades and fabrics.

“I just need jeans, dammit.” I yelled at the open bag.

At the bottom of the bag was a pair of jeans and tee shirts.

I quickly put them on and went in search of Femi.

Fortunately he wasn’t too far away. I found him just outside the lobby.

“Femi, we need to talk.” He flinched as I placed my hand on his wrist.

“Bimpe, don’t make a scene!”

“Femi, we’ve been friends for six years, please let me explain what happened.”

When he neither spoke nor acknowledged me, I moved to touch him again.

“Don’t you lay your harlotry fingers on me!”He snapped

“Femi, please! For what it’s worth, just listen and make your judgements after.”

He chewed on his lower lip, something I’d only seen him do when he was really vexed.

I began to say prayers in my head, truly only God could save our relationship.

“I’ll listen.” he said, after what seemed an eternity.

I felt like I was being led to my execution as we walked into the hotel and took the elevator to our suite.

Femi didn’t look at me and kept his distance very much like the first day we met.

I felt like I had those stinky lesions all over me.

I invited him to sit with me on the bed, but he refused and chose to glare at me from the wall.

“I apologize for not telling you this earlier; I really wanted to, you have to believe me. I love you, Femi, more than life itself and it kills me that…”

“Is this all part of your confession? I really don’t have time for all this Bimpe, I have called my lawyer and he should be here in thirty minutes, so please for your sake, get to the point!”

His words came at me like whips.

He called his lawyer? So quickly?

“My mother was seeing this man. His name was Mr Segun. He was really good to us. He paid my tuition as well as my mums. He cleaned us up and made us his family.”

“On my tenth birthday, he made such a fanfare, oh my goodness! It was the best birthday any ten year old could ask for; I had princesses and bouncy castles and cakes upon cakes.”Tears gently coursed down my cheeks.

“I had fun!”

“That night, while I slept, Mr Segun came into my bedroom and took off my pyjama bottoms and demanded my innocence, as payment for his elaborate treat.” I paused to breathe, all this while Femi’s demeanour didn’t change, he continued to glare at me like a pariah.

“I begged him, I did. I begged him not to do it, but he didn’t listen.” I was sobbing now, my shoulders racked by grief, long hidden.

As I opened up about that night, I began to realize that I had never really let my emotions out.

In all my sessions with my therapist, I’d explained what had happened, I'd talked about how it made me feel; but I never once cried about it.

I suddenly wasn’t concerned about how Femi felt, or how he was taking it. I was suddenly overwhelmed by my sudden vulnerability.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t the strong, all mighty, Superwoman. I was a hurt woman, a woman acknowledging her weaknesses and so I sobbed like a little girl.

Femi peeled himself off the wall and held me in his arms.

“You should have told me all of this, Bimpe. How can I claim to love you, and not love your weaknesses too?”He gently rubbed my back.

“That’s not all; there’s more” I said between sobs.

“Excuse you?” he backed away.

I was about to tell him the rest when the phone rang.

Femi rushed to pick it up, looked at me frowned and then mumbled something into the receiver.

“Femi, remember the day I was to meet your father, and I passed out?”

“Yea, what has that got to do with what’s left of your story?”

There was a gentle tap at the door.

“Hold that thought.”

Femi opened the door and all I wanted was for the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

“Femi, what’s going on here?”His lawyer demanded.

“First you call me to bring annulment papers, with your marriage barely a day old and then I come and meet your bride, with puffy eyes and a runny nose?”

“Surely this is not how I raised you, son?”

Femi bowed his head and rubbed his temple.

“It’s not what you think, Dad.”

I bit my lip and patiently waited for Femi to dismiss his father, so that I could explain the rest of the story, but Mr Ola was going on and on in what seemed to me to be a self righteous rant.

“Femi, have I not exemplified how a man ought to act?”

“I am highly disappointed in…”

“Oh shut up!”I leapt off the bed.

“Who are you to pass judgement? Self righteous, pompous, bag of shit that you are!”

“Bimpe!”Femi gasped.

I chuckled to myself and even though warning bells went off in my head, I couldn’t be bothered.

For years, I had rehearsed what I'd say to the beast when I saw him and the moment was ripe for the taking.

“You devil from the pit of Hades!”

“Bimpe, do you realize who you’re talking to?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, Femi, I’m talking to the man who raped me when I was ten.”

“Mr Segun, is the same as Mr Folarin Olusegun Ola, your lawyer and father!”

The words seemed to reverberate across the room.

“The hell are you saying, Bimpe?” Femi shook his head, as if to take my words out.

“What the hell are you saying?”He slapped me so hard, I toppled over the bed.

Mr Ola’s face sank as though he was staring at a ghost.

“Ask him! Ask him! Ask the devil and let him tell you that I’m lying!” I held my cheek in pain and screamed.

“No, this cannot be true.” He paced the room.

“Dad?”

“Femi, I’ve changed! I’m no longer that man.”

“It’s a lie! Father, did you…” Femi held his head and wailed.

“I’m so sorry, Bimpe. It was the devil! I swear! I don’t know what came over me.”

I laughed so hard my chest hurt.

“The devil?” I chuckled to myself.

Femi on the other hand grabbed the man by his Agabada and shook him so hard, I thought his neck was going to snap.

“She was freaking ten years old, sir!”

“How could you do that to her and just continue living?”

As I watched father and son argue it out, one sobbing, one insanely vexed.

I began to recall all my mother and therapist had taught me, including something from a Tyler Perry movie.

The character had said, “You know, you’ve truly forgiven someone and let go, when you see them in need of help and you freely help.”

I stared at Mr Ola, as Femi shoved him up the wall and yelled at him and something opened up in me.

“Stop it! Both of you! Just shut up!”

“You stole something from me, but I can’t continue to blame you for the rest of my life. I have spent years, not growing because I have held on to the hurt you created.”

“And just when I was beginning to find happiness, you crept in again and stole it from me.”

“If I had a gun or a knife right now, I would plunge it into your heart, without a moment’s hesitation.”

Femi stared at me like I'd grown horns.

“However, it still wouldn’t change what’s happened.” I wiped tears from my eyes.

“I swear to you Femi, I’m sincerely sorry for keeping all of this away from you. I should have trusted our relationship and our friendship and if you take me back, I promise never to keep anything from you.” I knelt at his feet.

“Bimpe, please get up!”

“I’ll be honest and let you know that I don’t know how to take all of this.”

“First you tell me that you were raped, and then you say my father raped you. It’s too much to take in one day.”

“My father has been everything to me, you know this!” He began to pace the room again.

“This is too much pressure on me.”

“One thing I do know is that I never want to see this man ever again.”

“Femi, Bimpe, I am eternally sorry. I have caused you enough pain and I agree with Femi, I think its best that I stay away from you both.” Mr Ola, wiped tears from his eyes and left us alone in the room.

I sat on the bed, waiting for Femi to say or do something.

“I’ve known you for about six years and I have had some time to think about everything you’ve said.”

“I have concluded that keeping all this stuff from me, must have killed you and now that I know who hurt you, it makes even more sense to me.”

“However, I don’t think I can accept you as my wife; not right now and not under these circumstances.”

“I’m looking at you now, and I can’t get over the fact that my father, the man I most respect in the entire world, raped you.”

“I’m sorry, Bimpe.”

“Maybe we can try to work this out, but I definitely need some space from you.”

He walked up to me and kissed my forehead and left.

I held my head in my hands and wept.

My heart felt like it was being wrenched out o my chest with no regard for any organ in its way.

I wept for my ten year old self, my soon-to be divorced self, and for my broken heart.

I wept till I had no more tears and no more strength.

Crawling under the sheet, alone on my wedding night, I sighed.

For the first time in my life, I was Bimpe, unravelled, weak, alone, but free!

Onyx.................Part III

I remember the day. I was in the process of making dinner when Femi called and said that his Step father was town and wanted desperately to meet the lady in his life.

I was nervous and excited and petrified to cook for ‘the family’.

Femi had told me about this man. He wasn’t Femi’s birth father, but then again, according to Femi, his birth father wasn’t worth the mention.

This man had paid for Femi’s education and mentored him, it was clear that Femi adored him.

I wanted to meet the man, who had made this man up just for me.

We showed up at the hotel’s restaurant and when the man walked up to us; I passed out.

For years Femi told me that the man’s name was Mr Folarin but when I walked into the restaurant, Mr Segun stood in front of me with his palm outstretched.

“Bimpe, are you okay?” Femi dabbed my forehead with the damp cloth.

I stared at him hoping that I’d been mistaken and it was some bizarre resemblance to the man I once knew.

“What happened?”

“My uncle was about to shake your hand when you fainted.”

“Are you alright?”

“Femi, what is your uncle’s name?”

“Mr Adefolarin, I thought I told you this before?”

“I mean, what is his full name?”

Femi frowned, “Adefolarin Olusegun Ola.”

I sighed deeply when he said the last names.

“Bimpe, whats wrong?”

“I must have had him confused with someone else.” I lied.

How was I to explain to him that the man he most respected violated and took from ‘me’ away from me?

“Where is he?”

“He had to leave for an urgent meeting, but he’ll be back later tonight. Do you think you’ll be up to it, then?”

“I don’t think so Hun. I think it’s that time of the month”

Femi frowned again, “Bimpe, your cycle just ended a week ago.”

“I know, but sometimes it comes twice, in one month. It’s weird I know.” I forced a smile.

I definitely need to make an appointment with my therapist.

If Mr Segun was Femi’s father, he’ll constantly be in our lives.

“It’s such a shame; I really wanted you to meet him.”

The fake smiles were beginning to make my cheeks hurt.

“Some other time, I promise.”

“Let’s order something and watch a movie at home then.” He smiled.

I was waiting at my therapist office as early as 8am.

“Bimpe, you must really be distressed, my office isn’t open until 9am!” she laughed when she drove in at 8:30.

“It’s the worst that could happen, doctor.”

She took out her pen and notepad and urged me to begin to share.

I explained how I had bumped into my nightmare and how much I wanted to tell Femi, but I didn’t know how he’d react.

Sharing made me feel a lot better but didn’t absolutely remove my concerns.

My therapist advised me not to tell him, perhaps after we have been married for a while and when Mr Ola has passed away.

According to her, telling him something like that would not only ruin him, emotionally but whatever affections he has for me will suffer as well.

I had some doubts and thought it best to just tell him anyways but after her advice, it seemed wiser to just sweep all under the carpet.

We talked about the awkwardness of being with Mr Ola and all the upcoming encounters.

I was very convinced that he couldn’t remember me, or maybe he did in the sense that he knew he raped a ten year old girl, but he didn’t realize that I was that ten year old girl.

A lot of people said I looked more like my late father than my mother. I was much taller than she was and maintained a slim physique where my mother was a little chubby; I wore my hair short, just beneath my ears.

My therapist agreed and advised that mum-was-the-word; if he didn’t say anything, neither should I.

To be quite honest I though her advice was quite desperate, but then again, Femi and I had been together for six years and I felt what we had was worth preserving.

As fate and Cupid would have it, Femi proposed a month later in the most romantic manner ever.

Warning bells went off in my head but I said yes anyways.

During one of our marriage counselling classes the Pastor had asked us to share our deepest darkest secrets; so that our relationship would grow stronger.

In retrospect that day would have been mighty awesome to tell him the truth but I clamped my lips shut and just smiled endearingly as Femi shared that he had slept with over ten females, including a mother and daughter and twins.

We prayed about it and our relationship did grow stronger, but I never breathed a word of what transpired between his father and I.

We met with Mr Ola on several occasions and I was more than convinced that the man had no clue who I was.

It burnt me, to see him smile and laugh and enjoy life like he had not stolen in his past, like he had not killed in his past, like he had not raped me.

During our dinner dates, I found myself often holding on to the carving knife a little too much and daydreaming a little too long.

I admit, I really shouldn’t have gone along with the bells and whistles of marriage or the wedding, fully knowing that I had skeletons in my closet.

My wedding day was wonderful.

It was more than a princess could wish for and right before my husband and I were whisked away into the honeymoon of our dreams, my mother grabbed my arm and pulled me aside.

“Bimpe, I think  I just saw Mr Ola.” I could see a mix of fear and anger in her eyes.

“I know, he’s Femi’s mentor” I said, lacking a better word.

My mother’s face fell,” you knew this and still married the man! He’s a monster Bimpe, just like his mentor” she made air quotes.

“Mum, I know Femi and he is nothing like Mr Ola.” I replied a little too sharply.

“Listen to me Bimpe, when I was dating Segun, it wasn’t written on his forehead what kind of horrible monster he was, in fact if anything he was sweet and kind and..” she stopped mid sentence, suddenly getting upset.

“Bimpe, I think you need to call this entire thing off! Get this marriage annulled and walk away!”

“Femi isn’t like that, trust me, I know what a beast is and Femi is not.”

She looked deeply into my eyes and sighed,” If that’s what you want, then so be it.”

I smiled and took her hands in mine compassionately, “You have been there for me mum, through a lot of nonsense. Remember that guy I was dating in my second year, Andrew?”

We both laughed.

Andrew was a mess, an accident waiting to happen. His temper could shame ten demons. Thank God I found out quickly before he smashed my head with a rock!

“I promise you mum, everything is going to work out perfectly.”

She seemed unconvinced and about to ask another question but smiled instead.

“Run along and have a wonderful wedding night!” she winked.

With joy in my heart I picked up my dress and went in search of my husband.