I wrote this poem for her — the younger me who believed the voices saying she was too much. This is the rewrite. The assurance. The gentle reclaiming.
Month: September 2025
In My Next Life
In my next lifeI want to marry rich. I want love to come with chandeliers.I want my bathtub filled with rose petalsbecause he’s sorry he didn’t make it to my reading. I am done with plastic basins.Buckets that crack every time I mop the floor.I’m done. In my next life,I will cry in a Range… Continue reading In My Next Life
Nancy Atieno's Notes 