To my babies.

Baby, it’s too early in the morning for resentment.


Please have your tea, eat your brekie and breathe.


The world and its shit will be there when you are done with your me time.


So let the apple cinnamon tea in and take your time with your conquest.


Your magic isn’t short lived or fast acting.


It’s slow and savory, and succulent, sour and sweet.


And slow acting, slow in speech and has grammatical errors and unfinished sentences…


But it is your poems Ivy.

It is your magic Susan

It’s your power Joy

It’s your picture Sieg

Its your genius Nick

It’s your heart Eu.

It’s your love Srishti.

It’s your words Alex O.



I dedicate this post to my tribe.

And to the five years I have spent on this Platform.

To WordPress for allowing me to

Pour myself out for myself and for you guys, and for my readers.


This space has opened up my eyes, heart, soul and mouth. It has given me courage.


I love you all.






Ivy sumbi



Best friend.

There is only so much you can do. Only so much you can give until you are empty.




So empty that your mouth dries up and you can’t form words. You have no words left to love yourself.


When you are cold, and lonely in a crowd of people that you know love you.


You KNOW they love you.


But you don’t believe it.


Because you love differently and you expect them to be the difference you need.


You show up, you show out, you buy gifts, you start conversations, you end conversations. You give space and take up space.


You are loud and sharp and vulnerable. And alone.


You are.




And isn’t it the best feeling ever baby…?


Doesn’t it feel good to be still, and quiet for a few hours.


For 12 days.

For 12 months and a year.


And eventually you will want to talk again, but they won’t be here.


And maybe, that’s okay.


In the end we are our own best friends.

In the end…




Mutheu wa Mbula

Good night…

I can’t say I didn’t try.
I put in the effort to be your friend
I pushed all the buttons I knew about
I made stuff up as I went along.

I am not stupid, you have showed me that I don’t mean shit to you.

I am still a little bitter, drinking the poison of unforgiveness so you get sick.

That’s another button I tried.

Let me ask this politely.

Don’t talk to me.

No texts.
No calls.

Today I was going to tell you that I have always had a crush on you and you made me question my sexuality. That I am convinced that I am bi because of you.

I was going to tell you that I love you.

But instead I will make you a parting gift.
And be done with it.

I am tired of trying to please you, trying to get to know you.

I am tired of the chase and all your fucking “mistakes”.

I am tired of your attention speaking tendencies.
How you pretend you are not impressed with me.

You pretend that you didn’t start this.
I am angry at you.

But talking to you about it isn’t worth the effort anymore.


To the one I loved, the one I love.
The one I tried with, with your condescending nature

And the one I never got along with, because she didn’t care enough to try.

Goodnight and good bye.