It’s been a month, a year, a century since I last heard your voice.
I don’t know if I miss you, I just know my heart grips the walls of my chest like a multipronged pair of pliers when I think of you. You drive through the highways of my mind at night with headlights on full blast, as the fumes of your exhaust fade, I clutch my chest and swallow my tears.
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I could have told you little one, that…
Wait my darling, you still are little.
Stop frowning, lest grooves grow on your face.
And while wrinkles show a life well lived.
You don’t want to be the most lived person in the room. Continue reading →
It was the way his khaki moulded his buttocks that first caught her eye, they weren’t big- the buttocks, they just seemed very firm. She imagined they were soldiers on sentry duty, each of them facing opposite directions, resolute in their calling to hold him upright. Her eyes trailed down to his orange jungle boots with its black base contrasting with the red sand of the market floor, she wondered briefly if the NYSC had given him this pair of khakis that were so tight that she could make out every muscle on his calf and thigh or if he had stood in front of a tailor, telling her to make them as snug as possible. Continue reading →
I took my tablet with me to the kitchen this morning. I set up a song to play while I selected tomatoes and sliced a section of an onion. As I chopped the tomatoes, I wondered why I wanted that song in particular. I had forgotten about it for years and even when I heard it again recently, I wasn’t tempted to listen to it on my own. It’s an old favourite of mine and a staple of my childhood, the song is by the American group – Atlantic Starr. The title of the song is Always.
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I’m getting married in September, all three ceremonies will hold in a ten-day window and there isn’t a cell in my body that hasn’t been replaced with nervous energy, I’m so burnt out by wedding preparations that if you say ‘Wedding’ near me, I might just shoot you. Actually, I would slap you. I don’t carry a gun about.
Don’t look at me like that. Continue reading →
Continued from Husband Wanted – 1
She watched them from the window, stomach churning, as her wild heartbeat made her faintly afraid she was about to have a heart attack. If only she would be so lucky, a heart attack would get her out of this farce.
It was hard to count the number of men who turned up for this joke that had gotten far out of hand. Were there a hundred men out there? Two hundred? Three hundred Spartan warriors seeking a wife? She covered her face with her hands and exhaled. Continue reading →
She knew he was the one at her door by his whistling, it was almost romantic how he would wait until he finished the first verse of Strong Thing before he knocked and it was silly that she waited until he knocked before she opened the door. He would stand there, big eyes, shiny head from his ever zealous barber and a soft smile that always made her walk into his arms for a hug, right there on the corridor.
He was quiet, he would flop on the floor beside her mattress and ask how she was. She would recite the minutest details of her day because he liked to hear everything, and it wasn’t idle chatter to him, he remembered everything. She would rub his head as she spoke, and he chuckled intermittently. Continue reading →