letter to the one i love

Help me forget you
I try but fail
I remember your laughter
Dream for your embrace.

(You’re here but not mine
I want you but you don’t.
I miss you but you miss her.
I love you but you love her too).

Help me forget you
Seeing you everywhere hurts
Knowing you’re here standing
And I can’t touch you, kills.

(Remember when we first talked
You told me you loved me
I ran because I was afraid
And now, I wish I hadn’t stopped).

I don’t know what happened
These past few months flew
I dropped from high to low
From having you to wanting you

(Sometimes, I want to hold you
But I hold back. I stand strong
And say to myself in pain
You’re not mine. You’re not mine).

I wish time flies by so fast
And takes you in his flight
For I dread the thought of you
And dreaming of you being mine.

(It still surprises me everyday
I wake up and think to myself
How I fell in love with you and
You fell out of love with me).

© CN



I wake up and it’s another day

I look around for you

The birds chirp and flowers shine under the sun’s rays

I wake up to the smell of coffee and the taste of pancakes

In a hurry, I run to the kitchen in hopes that everything is normal like it was

But getting there, the air glooms and the plants die

The atmosphere chills and my hope break into a million pieces.

We’re just strangers with a lot of memories that sleep in the same bed but distant than the earth is from the stars

I’ll drink a cup of coffee and live in this reality. I forget it everytime I wake up.

© CN



i struggle getting up at daybreak
for i don’t know if ’tis the day i’ll break.

if i survive this day,
i’ll drink a cup of coffee
in anticipation for another day.

for now,
i dread mornings
i dread waking up unsure.

© Chidera Nwosu



Sometimes I feel guilty smiling
when I see the smiles of people
being taken by force.

Sometimes I feel guilty smiling
when I see my fellow young child
being torn apart by a gang of wolves
who still roam free



Sometimes I feel guilty smiling
when I remember the faces of
people and children dying of starvation
caused by senseless acts of terrorism.

Sometimes I feel guilty smiling
when I hear and see people
left in a world of their own.

A world of pain

the air filled with mist of tears and dust

with screams of people saying



We’re humans too.

But, I smile still.

I smile
not because I’m happy but
because I know things are going
to be okay soon.

I smile
because I know things would be
calm soon like a gentle river flowing
gracefully with the radiance of the sun.

I smile
because even though
there’s pain and suffering,
I know that beautiful things are made
through fire and we will shine
like a constellation of stars.

I smile
even with a frown on my face
and the deep sadness in my eyes
with tears far many than the oceans
because I believe one day,
it will all be worth it
and I’ll sail away in the

oceans of my tears.

I smile
because it’s the only thing
I can afford to pay,
it’s the only thing that I truly own
and the only thing I can give freely.

I smile
so you’ll only see me
and be infected with smiles
and share the infection till it
becomes a world wide epidemic.

I smile
because I want the whole world
to stop, smile and forget
about the pain, hurt and


I smile because I hope.

I smile for you.

I smile for me.

I smile for those not yet born.

I smile for the sake of the world.

© Chidera Nwosu



Being an orphan was something little Evan was trying to get used to. Everywhere he went, every foster home, every orphanage seemed to have something to disqualify him.

At 8, he was already street smart, living amidst the rubble and dangers of the night, surviving hunger and thirst and the thick loneliness that overwhelms these alleys.

Days come when he forgets how to be brave and he yearns for the embrace of his mother and the smile from his father. Those days when the rain drenches him and he has no dry pair of clothes left. Or days when his feet sore from walking with no shoes. Or days when the other people run away or give him a look that says “What are you?”

He tries to remember what his mom told him; to have faith and that good people exist in the world and every time, he would go out in the open with his torn clothes and dirty face and smile at strangers or try to play with the other children but they always pass by like he wasn’t there and the kids laugh and point fingers.

Those days, he puts on his brave face even though he’s breaking inside. Slowly, he’s losing his faith and throwing away his hope. There’s no one who will love him. They’ll all pass him by even if it was his cold body that lay on the floor.

He learnt that truth at 10.

© Chidera Nwosu



I should have listened to my head
It is the only one that cares for me
My heart just cares for another
Who care for themselves first.

(no wonder I have accidents
when she takes the wheels)

She will take them again, I know
And I don’t blame her for anything.
She’s just a little child
Who still see everything with hope.

(band-aid isn’t working anymore.
soon, there’ll be nothing to fix).

© Chidera Nwosu



I play with these shadows
of what used to be

the bombs go off
and the people drop

this blood filled playground
is what remains of us

poor innocent children
caught in the fight of greed

toss by the wind of hate
our cries don’t touch their hearts

© Chidera Nwosu


Tercets you need to hear

If you look into the mirror often
with a frown on your face
then you’re looking wrong.

You focus on how
pale your eyes look
ignoring the teal they hold.

You focus on how
big your nose is
ignoring that you still breathe.

You focus on how
oddly shaped your ears are
ignoring that you still hear your family.

You focus on how
petite your lips are
ignoring that you can express yourself.

You focus on
everything you think
is wrong about you.

When you look into the mirror
it’s like a cloth is over your eyes
and you can’t seem to see nothing else.

You don’t see
the kind girl who
takes care of everyone.

You don’t see
the wonderful girl who
is friends with everyone.

You don’t see
the strong girl who
holds everyone up.

You don’t see
the brave girl who
would save anyone.

You don’t see
all the wonders that you are
the gold that you have.

You’re amazing
and God made no mistake
every part of you was on purpose.

You’re unique
and God made no one like you
everything you do, only you can do.

You’re beautiful
and God made you in His own image
every freckle you see is a work of art.

You’re more than what you see
and you’re more than what others see
you’re more than the mirror can tell.

When you look in the mirror today
I hope you see past the flaws
and look at what’s inside.

God made you special
and that will never change
even if you don’t see it.

But when you do,
trust me,
it changes everything.

© Chidera Nwosu



Emma walked down to the vinyl store. It had become a hobby of hers. After work, she’d go home, take a shower and walked down to “Mike’s Vinyls”.

Today she wore the same clothes she did when they first met. She was dancing to a Marvin Gaye’s song when she accidently bumped into Ryan.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized with a smile taking off the headphones.
“Ah, it’s alright. What you listening to?”
She gives Ryan the headphones and he puts it on.
“Oh cool. I’m gonna let you go ’cause I’m a fan of Marvin Gaye also.”
“Really?” she asked with a wide eyed look.
“Yup” he said nodding his head.

And it took off from there.

It turned out they had so much in common. Same favourite food, same colour, even same movie franchise, Tom and Jerry but couldn’t say that last one out loud.

They went for coffee and jammed at the vinyl store after work. They were always the last to leave. So regular, that Mike would be worried if they showed up a minute late.

It went on for a month and the memories piled up and it became more than just a passion for music.

After a long day and a short time at the store, Ryan walked Emma home and they talked. Getting to Emma’s lawn, they stopped and from nowhere Ryan kissed her and then ran off like a little kid with a big smile. Emma was shocked but happy. She stood still for a moment and went in. She couldn’t fall asleep but she knew she had to.

The next morning came, and she went to work, counting the time till it was over. She rushed to the store right after work. A minute passed and he wasn’t here yet. She waited more and the moon replaced the sun and the stars were out but he didn’t show up.

Mike closing up, comes to meet her.

“What happened to your boyfriend?”
“Uhm, he’s not my boyfriend but I don’t know.”
“Hope he’s alright.”
“Me too.”

She walked home with a sulky face. In bed, she tried calling him but his phone was switched off. Everyday she’d go and wait, watching everyone who passed through the door. He never came back.

Today, she wore the same clothes she did as the first and played the same song, hoping he would bump into her or recognize her. Music was the string that pulled them close but now, it was more than that.

And Emma thought to herself, “It can’t just end like this”.

© Chidera Nwosu



“Some stains last for a season
And others, for a short while.
Some hands can be turned back
And others, forever moving like time”

I tried fire today for the first time. It felt hot but calmer than the voices. It left no scar in that few seconds on my skin to be erased, but it erased the voices for a minute.

I’ve tried washing the stains with soap, sometimes liquid and sometimes powder and sometimes solid yet it remains, bulging not to spongy scrub or aftermath effect.

I try to ignore the scars like they weren’t there, for they are not pretty trophies of victories won or have a worthwhile tale behind their existence. But they appear, one way or the other, everyday on the calendar.

I speak of them not but they resurface in daily conversations, lonely walks, wee hours in the dark and even in the bright sky with a shade over the sun like an eclipse, changing not their patterns even after the years gone by.

These scars I tell you of, you can’t find them for they can’t be seen with the eyes, for those can be deceiving. They’re hidden where even I can’t find, where the light refuses to go and where the path meets a wall.

I have considered painting as an option. Red ink flowing on the canvas, painting pictures that make sense only to the ones inside. But I fear I fail at that too, for my fingers tremble at picking up the brush.

This brings me to the end of the road of finding what will do the job of wiping years away and making scars disappear. I have found that they are indelible no matter how hard I try, until one day when I get tired of trying and it fills me with dread; at the thought of it coming.

© Chidera Nwosu