Je rêve

Je rêve

Je rêve

Je rêve de toi

Mais je ne rêve jamais suffisant




Ndinorota nezvako

Asi handimborote zvakakwana

I dream

I dream

I dream

I dream about you 

But I never dream enough 

*Because ones multilingual, I hope you enjoyed the read😊


He Didn’t Sell Ice-cream… 

Once upon a time I was a young kid, way before I even dreamed of my teenage years but slowly taking steps in that general direction. It was during the school holidays, you know that time when you’re in primary school and life’s basically one big yard to ride your bicycle in. It was that time. I think I was just a few months into this bike riding thing but I thought myself a professional.

I held a grudge against my parents because they wouldn’t let me cycle to school. I even stood up and showed them I could look right and look left but still they wouldn’t understand. I still wasn’t giving up though. 

So one Saturday during the holiday, early in the morning my parents woke me up. My mum asked me to go to the shops and buy bread. I dreaded it but I also thought this is one of those to show I’m responsible and finally get my bicycle license. Quickly I headed to the bathroom and washed my face then put my shoes on. I nearly bumped into my dad rushing outside to get on my bike, which earned me a glare that burnt holes through your heart and short but firm lecture.

After that I was out, racing through the streets, disrespecting pedestrians and sticking my tongue out at friends. In 10 minutes I was there at the shops and barely out of breath. As I approached the entrance I realized I had left the chain to secure my bike at home. I had a few choices then, just run into the store and hope my bike will still be there when I came out or wait outside until I saw someone I knew. Riding back home to get my chain was also a distant not too appealing option.

After a few agonizing minutes (you know that childhood impatience) of waiting I was just gonna get in the store and risk it all. Then I heard someone greeting me. I looked up and it was a much older guy I didn’t know.

I didn’t think nothing of it. He was probably just being friendly. He asked what I was doing there and I told him I was buying bread but I was worried about leaving my bike outside. He told me I was in luck because he worked in the store. I noticed he wasn’t wearing the shop uniform but again I didn’t think anything of it. 

So I gave him all the money I had. It was much more than the price of a loaf but I was supposed to bring home change. Weirdly he started heading behind the store and asked him where he was going? He told me the bakery was at the back and that’s where you get the freshest bread. Again I didn’t think anything of it.

I patiently waited for his return.

The seconds dragged on into minutes. A minute became 10. 10 minutes became 20 and I got worried. After half an hour I decided to go look for him.
I got to the back and no doors were open. I walked around the shops a bit but I found no one. I went back to the spot he had left me and waited again. After another 30 minutes I was heart broken as I realized this guy wasn’t going to come back. I knew I had to go home but I dreaded it.

The bike ride was a solemn journey and the loneliest feeling had overcome me.

I got back home to find my parents standing outside the kitchen, basking in the early morning sunlight. 
“Kwanga kusina chingwa? There was no bread at the shops?” My mum asked.

“Changa chiriko asi… The bread was there but…” I went on to explain everything that happened, adding an extra apprehension of sadness to my face.

After I finished my mum said, “Ndiwo macon men arikufamba famba aya… It must be one of these con men said to be running around.

I quickly responded, “No anga asingatengese ice cream! No he didn’t sell ice cream!

But my words were responded to by an open palm connecting with my right cheek.

This is the moment I realized as an African English never loved me.

-The End

Empty Heart

Dreams of a time


I won’t fear

opening up

my arms.

The present


a comfort

I once had.

Even if my heart 

suddenly became 


I would still not 


enough space 

for you.


I no longer 

have space 

for pain.

Folk Tale

A time ago on a day no different from this one.

A young man met a girl 

A glow of light like none he had ever seen before.

And like all young people they talked and did things.

The girl had a vibe that vibed with him.

Soon the young man went from seeing something he liked

To falling deeply in love.

And as if in a fairytale the girl felt the same way.

Smiles and happiness was all anyone ever saw when they were together.

It was a dream come true for both.

Romance wasn’t dead! Or so they thought.

They did live happily ever after 

But only for a time.

Because like all good stories something bad happened.

A joyful union became two broken hearts.

I wish there was a good enough reason why it ended but there isn’t.

They just went their separate ways 

And the perfect relationship only survived in select memories.

A time ago on a day no different from this one.

A girl met a young man.

One who taught her how beautiful love is

And also how much torture heartbreak can be.



Let me smell that intoxicating fragrance 

Let me dive into your loving soul

Let me roam your deepest places

Between each heart beat 

A world of patience…

The hidden piano keys 

That strum my body to an unknown 

Rhythm I have never danced before 

I feel so warm

I feel the coldness fading

The fairness of love & war

I think a lot

Sometimes I’m wrong 

But you feel so tempting

Let me try and know it all

Let me pretend I’m amazing 

Let love be involved 

Between each word

A bond created

I feel a hold

I’m pulled past thoughts 

Of my planned invasion 

About forever I’m tempted.

(Image credit: @muhammedsalah_)

Questions Of The World

Why do stars shine the way they do?

Is it that they’re out there competing for our attention 

Or are they merely a distraction from the thoughts of the dark.

A blissful peace that sometimes carries our wishes

Beautiful ripples in the ocean of the night

During the day I wonder where it is they escape to.

I feel like having them for just the night is not enough.


Why does the moon offer itself in pieces?

As if it’s a lonely soul pulling off the petals of a rose

Only once do you see it whole.

The rest of the time it’s piece by piece floating through the air.

The moon comes sometimes half full or as just a crescent.

Is gracing the remnants of our humanity that intimidating?

Or does it sometimes just want to keep a bit to itself

I’ve heard a lot of things in this world can be a little selfish.


Why does the sun only shine in the day?

I sometimes wish for it on cold nights when I need some warmth.

I sometimes wish for it when I fear the rumblings in the dark.

How perfect though it makes the days

Close enough to keep us warm but not too close 

For it could burn enough us all of leave us cold.


Why do I ask all these questions of the universe?

Because I’m searching for some answers I hope the world knows.

I’m looking to the sky to make this void whole.

Because I’m just hoping.

If I can understand the sun…

the moon…

and the stars…

Then maybe I’ll finally understand your soul.

(Image credit: Isheanesu Malunga)

Chronicles Of A Question 

We all have certain things we notice in life but we just don’t really care to admit. Sometimes it’s through our own experiences or through the lives of others. I myself have things I’ll keep quiet about until someone else admits and then I’ll voice my agreement. A lot of times I just feel like we would much rather not talk about all the issues under the surface. We have this let lying things lie approach.

Life sometimes is either the greatest gift or the cruelest of curses. It just fails to be on the middle ground at times. The pendulum of our reality just swings from one extreme to the other and peace is none existent. The key is to not get too high on the high’s or too low on the low’s but as usual that’s easier said than done. In adversity a lot of what’s seen as common sense is a rarity.

We let our emotions get the better of us. We fail to reason. We fail think objectively. Anger, resentment, revenge, you name it… We let all these things take hold of us.

In a lot of the times between our anger and tears we’re occupied by a single question.


Two simple words that carry a lifetime’s worth of suffering or just a single battle in a life that’s been worth living. No matter how much time passes by after asking it, there’s usually never an answer. Because the universe doesn’t respond to us. The world doesn’t bend to our will. We could call out louder, we could punch through walls, we could break through the scale of normal human anger…

But we would still have the question, why me? The difficult pill to swallow is some answers don’t exist. Some answers remain captive to the forces greater than our own life forms. We remain with thought and contemplation. We remain with the company of our tears. We remain with our anger. And if we don’t start letting some of these things go, the sugar that used to escape our lips mixes with these things and we’re left with a bitter taste. Or worse we’re left bitter ourselves.

So often we forget that when it was all chocolates and roses, when we were surrounded by goodness and blessings we didn’t ask this question. WHY ME? Instead we actually asked more. We didn’t think there was a poor soul who had such physical and mental pain that life didn’t seem worth it.

Through my own path through life I’ve come across some harsh realisations. Ones never easy to take in. Ones I had avoided for the longest time. You don’t just how much you value is in the little things until you no longer have them. You start wishing you could just have one more day to feel again the grass underneath your feet. To run across the field on a summers day. To jump in the air for no reason.

You ask why me, thinking your question deserves to be answered more than the questions of most. But there’s no favouritism, no specific. The same rules apply to you and everyone else. So I held on to my anger and my question for a really long time. I thought expecting an answer till the end would make me more. Yet I was only killing myself.

Someday, I don’t how but I finally learnt how to let it go. It stopped being why me? Instead I started asking if not me then who?

It didn’t heal my bones or make me whole but ever since then I’ve slept with a little more peace.

Note: Being able to make fun of yourself makes a lot of life’s moments bearable.