She – 25.09.2025 (End)

‘I’ll miss you now, but you’ll miss me the rest of your life.’ – Rosie

Today, she gave herself permission to let go.

Though she felt completely dead inside, she knew that her weakness was the source of all her pain.

Today, she allowed her heart to open up and become the target. Her mind regurgitated memories of the lies he sang to her in the form of a unique connection and emotional bond.

Today, she created an opportunity for him to reassure her mind. Instead, he doubled down on his deceitful behaviour, and she sensed a hint of pleasure in his goodbye. It was akin to being bitten by a venomous snake and having the power to cure the heart. Choosing to smile in the face of someone who unequivocally valued you, prioritised you, and though you promised you’ll never hurt her.

Your smile beams, glancing at the antidote and her life fading in…three, two, one.

Admittedly, the tears she created today were nothing in comparison to before. Her gift forced her to see the truth even before she was ready.

Her heart told her to stay and continued to pour into a non-existent soul.

May she treat herself with kindness and stop wishing she never existed in such a heartless world. May her mind stop mocking her emotional intelligence and laughing at her inability to connect with a good man. May her memories stop belittling her luck, with constant reminders of all the red flags he stitched right before her.

Today, she gave herself permission to let go.

She cried for forty-four minutes, switched the track to 16 Carriages by Beyoncé, wiped tears from her face, blew her nose, then sat back in bed and asked our universe for peace of mind.

Liar – 20.09.2024

The way your lips move when you speak has always fascinated me.

Let’s be real; no one is interested in you.

The way your fingers twitch when you tweet, and your voice wails out.

Let’s be real; no one cares about you.

The way you lie and you lie, and you gaslight and lie and reverse over a swan you ran over earlier. Then you fall asleep. Wake up and swear to your God that you’re innocent, and you hate how witnesses are reporting your crimes.

You cry out like a bitch to the feds about how your traits are on the line here, and you don’t think it’s fair that the news is printing eyewitness testimony.

After all, you know you’re innocent, right?

Let’s be accurate; you think what you think, and even the truth has no space in your life. So your head has you spinning, allegedly.

You make up shit and assume that the editor is spending time pouring gold on. She knows nothing about you, to write about you. However, past and present witnesses have the mic and the timeline of deceit, and most importantly, they can attest under oath that you regularly attack swans.

Crow chants out at 1800; your body bears witness to all your violent crimes.

Your lips move and echo your lies, with tears and pain on the hour. You snarl and snigger at your brilliant ways of manipulation. You play victim so well, yet you hold the knife perfectly, not even bothered about cross-contamination; you raise, and you stab. You stab, and you twist. You twist and assign blame, stating, ‘Your response made me do this.’

Then you hide your weapons, you cry wolf and explain to the authorities that you were attacked! Your character was defamed, and your traits were contaminated.

Crow now perches on my left shoulder, and he plucks a prawn from my portion of King Prawn egg fried rice with the soya-ginger sauce in a small dipping bowl.

We are silent in this space.

One of the surviving swans makes a statement that coincides with witness testimony.

You scream out, ‘I’m innocent’, as the detective finds evidence to prove you’re a liar.

Liar.