Morning musings 1

I have noticed that when the sun sets I’m in a pretty bad mood. It’s like all the pain comes flooding in again, emotional and physical, and I find it hard to be happy for other people.

But what I have found to be the greatest foundation for a metaphor is that if you give your emotions time to fade, or jisort (sort themselves out) , if you give it a couple of hours or days or weeks, you will find yourself waking up in the morning feeling and being better.

You will be glad that you gave it time.

The metaphor that is the reality of the sun setting on your sadness, and rising on the promise of new joy is beautiful.

It’s wisdom. And I Thank God for it.

Whatever you believe in, even if it’s noting, (no judgment here) I hope that you gain wisdom from it, and that it brings you renewed joy and far reaching peace every morning.

Happy end of March babies.

I love you.
Thank you for being one of the reasons I stay sane and focused on my journey. Thank you for reading. Thank you for feeling with me.



From walking in pain…

To my local mall to get a balm for my aches.

I felt the pain transfer from the left side of my leg to the right side of my chest, as I took small steps forward.

Trying to control my breathing and focusing on the destination ahead.

I wish that I could buy a soothing balm for my soul. I am broken hearted.

I’ve ended my longest romantic relationship with a manic fling and a gut wrenching, hateful good-bye.

I started hating you months ago. When you were too busy for me. You must have thought that waking me up on a Saturday morning to give me some roses was romantic.

You literally left a few minutes after that.

By treating me as an after thought you gave me space to think about our relationship.

You know I don’t even like roses. I prefer long large trees.

Fuck flowers – Iyla

You know I’d rather have dried up, dead babies breath than have red roses from a stranger.

You banked our love on empty, pretty gestures and kisses. You didn’t want to help me when I needed you.

You insulted me, in a way you knew would hurt me, because I denied you physical affection.

Later, much later, we talked for about six hours straight. This was the first time in months we had a long, meaningful, face to face conversation.

I know when I lost you. I lost you in 2018, with a betrayal I made to save myself from your possible rage.

You didn’t tell me that I destroyed your trust.

Our love began to rot.

Festering deeply.

Deeply disgusting scents.

Sending my soul unto moarning.

I asked you if you were okay for one and a half years of my life.

And you lied to me each time.

Armed with anger (confusion, self loathing, insecurities), fear, jealousy and wrath at you denying our intimate moments…

You disregarding my feelings… And giving me the space you thought I needed.

Because you needed it.

I cheated on you. I take responsibility for the actions that led up my to infidelity.

Why can’t you accept your mistakes?

You say you wouldn’t abondon me. But you already have. I couldn’t believe that I let you have me after you let me go.

I didn’t regonize this Ivy. The one who let herself be less than only. The one who wanted you enough to break a godly vow in hopes that you would stay…. with me.

It turns out that you never could.

You asked me if I am a long term lover. I said I don’t know, I’ve never tried.

You said we would take it one day at a time. And when it came down to it. You let me down.

When the day came for you to be honest. You lied mercilessly.

When the day came for me to be faithful, I failed… Miserably.

When the day came where I finally told you how I feel and why I can’t love you anymore. You accused me of playing victim. You belittled me. You crushed any hope I had of ever loving you again.

You have been manipulating me for months, and I let you. I’ve been manipulating you too. I don’t even know how this all started. This toxic cycle.

All of your beautiful broken parts and your sharp jagged edges cut my skin.

You reached into me and when you looked at what was in your hands you were disgusted.

I don’t need the kind of love you give.

I don’t want wild love that comes and goes when he pleases, like I am a revolving door of yes and no and maybe.

I hope that I never see you again. And if I do, I hope I don’t recognize you. Because I am starting to think that you never wanted my sparks and all my dirty parts.

You wanted my title, my time, my body, my allegence, my spine, my smile…

I will not be your goddess. I am not your harlequin. You are not my joker.

Go find someone else to validate your ego and stroke the green flames of your self righteousness.

Fuck off Sir. Fuck the fuck off.



The one you will never get back.

Until now.

I am starting to see life for what it is.
A series of mistakes, that if repeated, lead to destruction of self.

Languishing in it makes misery my home.


I could push past myself and love me ’cause I’m lovable.

I am starting to see love for what it is, not what I want it to be. All the words I hold in my tongue so I don’t offend you and the decisions I make despite your advice. And the frustration you have with my ways.

My frustration with you not being on my side.
You won’t love me to my death bed, I heard you say that.

I don’t want to be the kind of person that constantly surpresses who I am and what I want to fit into a world that couldn’t care less.

I don’t want to run away from things that haven’t happened yet.

I fell into the darkness I thought was myself and couldn’t get up.

Until now.

I am loving myself. It means looking her in the eye every day and giving her pleasures she’s never had.

And that’s okay.


How many times, in this house, have I thought about dying.
How many times have I lived.
Ive walked this hall in pain and euphoria
I’ve lied and cheated people I loved.

I’ve burst open and spilled my blood all over.
Cut some glass and used it on her.
I’ve cried for death, more than I’d like to admit.
I’ve drowned in tears for someone else’s benefit.

My skin became foreign
My soul let me alone
I came out of my own body
I moved out of my home.

I came clean and cleaned myself up
In a vat of alcohol
I lit matches with lost loves
I floated through open doors without my knowledge.

I gave up.
I found love.
I am finding my way through corners.

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




When I feel like I can’t sing anymore
Words trappedĀ  in my throat
Songs lost in my mind
I rely on you
It’s just us two

When my voice no longer says things I want it to
When breathing is a chore
Living is a bore
And hurting is all I know how to do
I rely on you

When no one can give me a reason
To keep fighting
To keep living
I take a deep breath
Breathe in
And I find
On you I can rely

I have known for a while
That every body hides
And even though no one says it
It’s okay not to be okay
For a while
I don’t need anyone to save the day this time
I have you.
I’ll be fine