Myrha's Blog

Personal Poems About Love & Heart Break 5     It is Tuesday in Nigeria right now. For me, it is the day after my eighteenth birthday. 😈, 😋.     Just realizing I'm a grown ass person and should start thinking seriously about my life (which is code for 'how to fend for myself and add value.')    Was bothered by someone's silence. Expected more, MORE . . . but was disappointed and it got nasty in my feelings.    Got better because I reminded myself that no one is perfect (except me, on my good days 😁.) and also that grown ass people should not feel entitled to anyone's love. After  the bitterness and anger had passed, I had this : TASTES LIKE SKIN.     I didn't want to bite, don't like to feel guilt suffocate me  after  I relish the blood I drew from you. Guilt,  damp cloth over my nose, BREATHE. cricket-like chirps in the ears, STOP!!!... pls... Tosses  sleep to the darkest, farthest corner of a room that my body won

Personal Poems About Love & HeartBreak 4    Hello, people!!!   I took some time off to think on writing new poems and I did that because posting old ones kinda reignited my poetic aura 🙄 (whatever that means).   I promised an extra for the day I missed posting on a Thursday and it's coming in tomorrow, 😁. OK! I'm really sorry, though it's worth the time it took.   So... this is one of the newer ones, 🤩, I would love to know what you think; tell me in the comments.   Here: SILENCE We speak something new these days, it's no more, "I love you." "You're just… something." it's no more laughter, it is silence, a stranger. Creeps into our phone talks, this sneaking in:  I don't know where it started,  when it started, I just know that it's not the comfortable type, not the type my parents share after a meal. It is jagged, scratchy like lace, suffocating: firewood smoke:

Personal Poems About Love & HeartBreak 3    It's a Saturday, not a Thursday, I know and I'm very, very sorry. This week was hectic and I couldn't get myself to share with you.     To make it up to you, they'll be two today, fair? 🙃 (comment and let me know if its fine.) This poem is written as a ' now you're back in my life ' note.   Here it is, read:   FLOOD ME Floods start with rains, pouring into gutters, into deep things, like portholes. Rain on swampy ground sinks in  and the ground begins to mix, begins to turn to swamp  that it is. My whole life has led up to this moment: You come back to me and the flood growing in  my soft, swampy heart umbrellas us, my shoulders sag in your hug. Floods escape through my eyes. Every time you change your perfume, it still holds something familiar under it, it's the way your body smells naked, it smells rain, smells male.

Personal Poems About Love & HeartBreak 2     Hello people.   Continuing from last week, 😀.   This poem is kinda angry, so read it like it's a rant.    A spoken word version exists, in which I say the poem, if you actually want to hear it then just drop your email with me (subscribe 😁,) and I'll send it to you. Plus I won't spam you, promise. Here's the rant: TO LOVE ME I deserve to be loved like the ocean. Looking at it, you know you will never be able to know all of it, to drink all of it. Which human dares to fall in love with me?  You must be a capeless super hero. You must strengthen your back bone to love me like I am a visitor  and yet hug me like I am the answer. Love me with your eyes wide open. Try to love me like God. Say my name as prayer. Say it  till it has deep currents in it's sound. Call me  the one, "The one. The one." Do not hold on to me longer than my

Personal Poems  

COZA & Victoria    Today, I feel restless. It's like birds are in my stomach, flying around, perching all at once and then flying again.   I do not want to go out; these kinds of days I stayed in my room in university. I would have covered myself with my purple blanket and then cried, eaten, urinated and cried again.    Then, this feeling of wasting away was usually attached to something tangible, like the feeling that my life had no purpose or of not having money at all and anyone to call. But this morning, there is no reason.   I go out anyway, to work.   Work is almost sad, the same routine. Everyone does the same things like everyday, says the same things, "Victoria, good morning, howdy?"  "Do you think Fatoyinbo actually did that?" Falls mundanely on my mind, like Martha's daily heavily made-up face.   I am grateful for the few customers booking rooms today and that it's almost 1pm.   Then I see Gideon, strolling towards my d