The color of my pain is Red.

It bleeds…
Oozing from a wound that cannot heal.

It burns…
Roaring like a fire that scorches all it touches.

It rages…
With uncontrollable fury destroying everything in it’s path.

It consumes me… inflames me.
Turns me to ash and then rises again.

– Mamello Maitse


She wasn’t perfect…
She never claimed to be.
In fact,
In many ways she was far from it.

But her love…
It was deep,
And it was wide,

But it was also naive…
It was childlike,
And innocent,
Loyal to a fault.

was her love.
was her perfection.

– Mamello Maitse

The still

I find solace in the still of night.
When all lays to rest I lie awake.
And when all stirs to life I wish to slumber.
In this silence I hear my innermost thoughts…
And recover those parts of me lost through the day.
The night whispers again and again to my unsettled mind.
The night lulls me to rest.
In this quiet solitude I am at one with myself.
I am still.

– Mamello Maitse


I’m unravelling, scarcely able to stop myself from coming apart.
A whirlwind of emotions, spinning as my resolve unwinds.
What am I to do when the things once woven into my mind come undone?
I’m disentangled from myself…


– Mamello Maitse

Broken hearts…

I think I’ve acquired a taste for broken hearts…
The chest pain that makes it hard to breath because you literally feel your heart breaking while its whole.
The trembling hands that wipe away sorrowful tears that blind the soul with aching.
The dazed stares that draw you into memories of all you’ve lost.
The immense sadness that brings the meaning of life – of love into question.

It’s all too familiar now…

– Mamello Maitse