Inferno Moon.

There was nothing he would rather do than to hear her voice again.He dreamt about it when the red moon set ablaze the dark sky with its presence, burning up his mind with desire.

She stood there looking like a pool of flames. His breathing was breaking the silence. The lump in his throat would not allow him to speak, holding his voice hostage in the cage of his thoat. Too many things were wrong. A place he once saw sparkle, is now a place with black holes. Her eyes were full of darkness.

He got lost in the black hole. Sinking deep into a place where ge heard her voice. A memory within a dream. He clung onto the tremors in her voice as they faded into nothingness. 
©️ Ashleigh Wenyika


UNESCO competition

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Maybe I Should Love You Less.

Maybe I should love you less because right now, if we were to measure our love on a balancing scale, with you standing on the left and me on the right. The scale would tilt towards me, with my heart weighing heavier than yours.

Is my love a burden to you? Is my love too much for you?  I know you hate it when I say what’s hurting me, but if you felt what I felt you would release it too.

Maybe I should love you less because love hurts when I’m carrying it for the both of us. 

Is there such a thing as saying I love you too much? If you can’t love me too much should I come down to you?

I feel growing pains, from us growing and growing apart. The further you go, the more I stretch my heart towards you.


Maybe I should love you less.  Teach me how to go days without talking to you, you’ve seem to have mastered that act, tell me how can you carry on as if I don’t exist?  It’s so different when my world revolves around you.

 If I loved you less I would bother you less.I would want to text you less, I would want to hold you less, I would think about you less.

Maybe I should love you less and when we measure our love on a balancing scale, with you standing on the left and me on the right. The scale won’t tilt because I have learnt to love you the way you love me… Less

©️ Ashleigh Wenyika

Happy birthday to me

Dear Me, you are amazing, don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not.

Your beauty is in your soul and it illuminates right through your smile. 
You are complicated to a person who can’t take time to understand you. You are complicated to a person who can not fathom your magic. 
You are a puzzle to a person who is not ready to piece all your mysteries together and a wonder to a simple mind. 

Don’t wait for others to tell you how special you are, you should feel it for yourself because they may never realise it. 

You are love. So embrace yourself and accept yourself. 

Yours sincerely You. 

 21 March 1994, a star was born.

Crossroad Blues 

He knelt by the crossroad on the highway, with his straw hat in his left hand and his guitar on the ground. Old man Jerry sang his lullaby 

Good friend, here I am lookin’ for you

I got a lil something and I hope you do too

A whisky in my breath ain’t stop me from crying

A devil was an angel and I know you ain’t lying.

Old man Jerry put on his hat and picked up his guitar and began to play the blues. This was a sad tune. He felt it in his soul, as he closed his eyes an overwhelming sadness possessed him and he began to wail
I bleed my soul out on this crossroad…
And a cool voice said,  “Old Man Jerry, we meet again. ”
Old man Jerry opened his eyes in shock, even though he knew who it was, he still felt fear.

“You’ve changed from the last time I saw you. You did summon me,”  said the man.
“Y-yes I sure did sir, and you haven’t changed one bit after all these years” he stuttered.
The man laughed, a burst of deep loud heartly laughter “you have no soul to sell Old Man Jerry, and you have nothing to offer. Are you forgetting that 20 years ago a young Jerry once came to the cross road with this dull voice and his guitar and sang to me the blues and made a deal ,giving me his soul for fame and fortune. ”
“Please devil-man, I hear the hell hounds knocking on my door and I ain’t ready to go yet, my daughter just had a baby and I need more time, ” he pleaded, knowing his fate.

The man flashed a sinister smiled as his eyes darkened, and said in a deep voice, “there ain’t no way to stop them hell hounds. Pity, man got one soul and you already sold yours…”

©️ Ashleigh Wenyika

 This story was inspired by the myth surrounding Robert Johnson, a legendary bluesman who apparently sold his soul to the devil in exchange for his musical talent.

Valley of Death. 

Tonight as I pray.  

I breath in the smell of incense in the air, burning away my decaying sin. My white gown stained with dirt.
In this musky hollow house, I drown my sorrows in my tears. Whispering words so sacred, only a secret my heart knows.

I dare not to speak too loud, confessing with my tongue, words so sharp, they pierce my mouth. Tonight, I speak to the demons and tell them to leave me alone.

I am on my knees, hands together just like you taught me. I close my eyes…

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death… 

Deep in my heart, there is an unspoken secret; I curse my sin, the sin of living. A yoke I must carry until mercy chooses to release me.

Forgive me.. 
I pray the demons away. The way you said I should. The silence in this house is a joke compared to the noise in my mind.

You told me home is not far away. An unknown paradise.

©️ Ashleigh Wenyika