Letting Go.

Hit the nail right on the head                                  Hit it straight,my emotions are dead                   It’s not something I’ve not already heard            Say it or say nothing instead

Now it makes no sense to me                                 Why you acted like we were meant to be            You made me so dependent on you                     You made me think all your words were true    My life was entwined around you                        Then you left me without a clue

Can’t believe you called me a liar                          You made me feel so low                                       Thought with you I was going higher                Now I’m as low as I could ever go

I was warned to have a boundary                          So I don’t eventually feel sorry                              but I heard only what I wanted to hear                cus the lover I had for you was very clear

now, on us, the curtains close                                 Finally,The blood in my heart flows                      I’m very ready to grow                                            I’m ready to finally let go


LILY; The Heart of the Harts

There is a way things were done in my house before Lily was born. Everybody lived their separate lives in their separate ways; we were in our own bubbles, seldom colliding except at the daily meal times when we all met in the kitchen to collect respectively dished plates of food,muttered a greeting to whoever was in the small room at the time, cracked a mild joke,and retreated to our enclosures.

There was a dining table – which received a weekly dusting activity.

We were more like housemates with hardly anything else in common than a home address, than individuals who had the same blood coursing through their bodies. We were all sure we loved each other, but nobody really volunteered to demonstrate that love.

Holidays like Christmas or other memorablecelebrations saw us in the only unoccupied room in the house,sitting around the aged plastic Christmas tree, on the carpeted floor, telling tales of the family past and jabbing at each other. That was how the Harts lived.

The 6th of July was my father’s birthday. That day was an exception to the pattern we all played out our activities in line with.

4 years ago,as usual, we all wore matching clothes on July 6,and found our way to the karaoke bar we frequent once every year. My mother got to the mike,heavily pregnant and the least tipsy of us all, to sof the our ears with her angelic voice on an Elton John number. It was,as usual,mesmerising. She got to the table, grinning broadly at the awed, applauding listeners,just as her water broke. Seven hours and so many contractions later, Celiac Hart was born.



  1. I’m so excited to finally begin blogging.
  2. This is my first time!
  3. I’d really love for you to read past this point.
  4. Yes, yes. I procrastinate. This is a final attempt from 3 months after creating this.

Since you’ve gotten up to here, I should progress and make sure the only movement your finger is making is an up and down one…

The blog is for story lovers, thoughtful people, people who haven’t got love for reading but wanna see what’s up, people passing by,people stumbling upon the link ,in other words, everyone.

Anyway, I’ve begun today finally! I do hope that this prompts anyone reading that has held up something for eons hoping for that “very soon” day that you’ll take care of it, to drink some Red Bull, pull into gear and get that business rolling! Okay I’m done.

Hol’ up for next post! Thanks.