Her side of the story…

26 Jul

  I glance at his sleeping frame and my heart constricts, I rub his tummy and he sighs in his sleep, I snuggle up to him and try to sleep but with every toss and every turn, I know sleep will not be kind to me tonight. Why should it be? I am a thief, living off borrowed goods. I look at that body that has become so familiar to me, I can hear his laughter in my head, he makes me so high, makes me so glad, touches my heart and soul, this lie that I call my own. When did I stop being that person with morals? When did I agree to this pact that tastes so sweet but stings so deep? I hold tight to my treasure, I’d never have embarked on the quest if I knew the prize was not mine for the taking. Could he be any more perfect than he is? I love him I whisper. Words I can never say out loud. I talk about him everyday, I smell his perfume even in my sleep. Yes I’m sprung, but would I be judged any less harshly? These were circumstances beyond my control. Nobody told me that he’d steal my heart, no one thought a warning necessary. Oh I wish I knew some magic, so I could erase the ties that held him bound and vanquish the enemy and rightful owner who claimed his heart and kept him from being entirely mine. Oh how I’d managed only a farthing of his love, oh how I’d made do with the littlest share of commitment. What could I do to make it all make sense? Why did fate punish me so, making our moments together bittersweet?

We were friends, he knew me like the back of his hand. Knew my quirky side, knew my craze, knew me when I was scared and afraid but we had crossed the line. I hadn’t meant to taste those lips, hadn’t realised I’d ever wonder about his mandingo. But now here we were, neither here nor there, still friends but less friends and more of something more, something dangerous, a liaison laden with trouble. This wasn’t the plan, a little fun was all it was meant to be. A l’il sumtin sumtin to warm up a cold evening and add flavour to an otherwise normal friendship. Now I was royally screwed, desperately needing to keep up the maturity charade and put up paper walls to save my aching heart and pick up the pieces of my ego that crumbled into little pieces every time she called and he became a different person. Stolen moments, stolen kisses, a love twice removed from my fantasies. What could I do to save myself from this sinking ship? I was fiddling with the mechanics of the ship, refusing to jump ship, refusing to catch one of the buoys tossed at me by boys at sea. Maybe if I was pretty enough or wifely enough, the papers would finally read B’s property, rather than B’s loot! Mama had taught me ages ago that you couldn’t keep stolen goods, they always got you in a heap of trouble. What was I to do? He plagued my thoughts, plagued my life, plagued my dreams and his only offence was a smile.

I could blame him for not telling me about her, I could blame him for doing all the right things and saying all the right words. I could blame him for not sending me straight home the first time he saw the love in my eyes. I could blame him for wanting more when he had all he needed. But I couldn’t blame him, wouldn’t point fingers when it was me that chose to stay. I chose to be a thief; to love a man who would never give me more than an artery leading to his heart, to keep a woman awake at night, worrying where her man had been. Well I was awake too, tossing and turning all night and every night. Wondering and scheming, too afraid to utter words other than ‘God please’. Thieves were allowed to pray, the one beside Jesus hanging on the cross was saved by his supplication. Maybe my sleeplessness was punishment, surely she must have called on the powers that be to rob her enemies of peace. When I was a little girl, I dreamt of a man such as this, he was all I ever wanted, nobody warned me that he would be taken, nobody warned me that I would be hanged for stealing…I PLEAD LENIENCY…for he stole my heart too!

Written for every woman who has to wait her turn for the love of her borrowed diamond, guard your heart diligently young woman for out of it flows the issues of life. If your hands hold so tightly to what is not yours, how will you receive the gift of love that the Father so graciously pours upon you in season?

Have a lovely evening peeps…xoxo 🙂


Posted by on July 26, 2011 in Hall of Fame, Relationships


Tags: , , , , , , ,

16 responses to “Her side of the story…

  1. Femi

    July 26, 2011 at 6:35 pm

    This piece is many women’s cry, and warning notes to those women threading the same lane, follow ur head and ur heart, not just ur heart.

  2. anonymous

    July 26, 2011 at 7:31 pm

    Thanks this really touched me,I have experienced this personally,thank GOD cos I knw he HIS taking out of that and bringing me rightfully to what is MINE.

  3. abi mohammed

    July 26, 2011 at 8:52 pm

    Great piece; deep and heartfelt.

  4. nshina

    July 26, 2011 at 11:00 pm sad but really a real life struggle.I recently met a guy that I would have swore was perfect for me but alas he’s taken.My consolation is in the fact that the blessings of God makes rich and adds no prince charming will come and he will be available.. 🙂

  5. Kimono

    July 26, 2011 at 11:02 pm


  6. enitan

    July 26, 2011 at 11:21 pm You write beautifully 🙂

  7. Hajo, Nigeria.

    July 27, 2011 at 2:55 am

    Your story is a pathetic one but with prayer and patience, he will gradually come around and be the man he use to be. Stay clean.

  8. rethots

    July 27, 2011 at 8:30 am


  9. Ginger

    July 27, 2011 at 2:09 pm

    You had me at the first line…

    5 Blog awards? Wow! Congratulations!

  10. emjay

    July 27, 2011 at 3:32 pm

    wow! what a nice piece! for every woman dat has ever fallen in love with another’s man. its not too late to re-trace your steps!

  11. christine

    July 28, 2011 at 8:38 am

    Touching piece…

  12. Ehisco

    July 28, 2011 at 10:33 am

    hmmm very nice piece, first time on your blog and I have to say, you dey write sha. Keep up the good work girl!

  13. Gbenga

    July 28, 2011 at 2:29 pm

    Uh! How touching this piece is, sounds like a life story, you are very good writer neetah, will like to meet you someday

  14. LagosMums

    July 29, 2011 at 10:46 pm

  15. Jay

    August 21, 2011 at 12:21 am


  16. Chronicles of the naÏve

    August 22, 2011 at 3:08 pm

    No girl ever dreams of becoming the ‘other woman’ but then cupid likes to fire his arrows without aim some times. i guess we ladies have to learn skills to block miss fired arrows. Great piece, L♥√ع it.


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