Weary

Today I saw my first love

In a cafe with overpriced cupcakes

And strange ice cream.

He looked well and my eyes who are

Trained to stare at him

Refuted their training and stared at a wall.

In the midst of four people and the blare of great music

My heart thumped to the beat of

Each song.

I danced and batted my eyelids

Grasped his hands when unnecessary

And force fed him.

With each touch from sweaty palms

I dreamt of what can be.

With each force of feed

I wondered why he fights us.

 Later that night in the midst

Of conversations that spanned from Illupeju to Okota.

The connection of MTN to GLO

I called a friend turned sister.

What we do all the time repeated itself

A congress on the men we love and those who love us.

It was my turn and

We discussed him

Dissected the reasons I won't let go

Trying to understand my choice to remain on a ship that had long sailed.

How do I explain that no other compares.

Every other one is a shadow in his light.

My aimless wanderings into the hearts of men,

Men who are weary and tired

Who have permanent tenants and have no room to spare.

Men who are hollow just like me.

Dabbling in the idea that I could try to love then.

The problem is

I sold my heart and my buyer won't give it back. 

Nkem Oyaghire