Doubt is a benign lump in the throat of mind. The grief that accompanies dawn is always an ignored spectre, lurking, waiting for the inevitability of nightfall. Each love has an invisible umbilical to death. Placentas buried in nondescript graves are myths—heartbreak is a pus always ripe for a reaping. You wonder, why fall in love if you can’t stay down? In P-Square’s voice, “You no be George Finidi, You no dey start wetin you no fit finish”
Maybe it’s the smile or the texture of his voice the first time. Maybe it’s the flowers & the wine, the way he says “I love you” to you. Maybe it’s the cologne that masks his lies. You do not say back the words but you feel some warmth inside. You can hear his voice from earlier that evening, from the open-air bar by the lake, vibrant as the sun.
“Would you dance, if I asked you to dance?”
He unstraps your bra with the same deftness he strums the guitar. You are eager & nervous. You cast shy stares at his lean upper body as though a teenager on a first date.
“Would you tremble, if I touched your lips?”
A kiss is a curse. Like wine, it makes you betray yourself. He draws close & you ripple at the touch of his hot breath. You kiss him back—Lady Gaga’s Judas shrieking in your mind. You know you shouldn’t be doing this with the stranger but your spine is now jelly. He supports you—firm hands encircle your slim waist.
“I can be your hero, baby”
Every nerve in your body is screaming. Your bones have turn to dust. He scoops you into his arms. Against his chest you feel his racing heart. You can’t feel yours any more. A drop of sweat races the line of your back down to the parting of your buttocks. He dumps you on the bed & reveals the magic beneath his briefs. You are now a leaf on the earth of desire, dancing to the wind’s soprano. His tongue is fire between your thighs. Your body stiffens & you bite your lower lip.
“Would you cry, if you saw me crying?”
Both of you break into feral moans, celebrating the dawn of something risky, something yet undefined. Rain thunders to earth as if to water your seed of passion. The night breathes heavy. You look at him exhausted beside you, lips slightly parted, seeping soft snores like the purring air-conditioner above the bed. But you don’t want a hero. You don’t want to break another heart. You reach under your pillow & wrap your hand around the cold handle of the knife.
“Now, would you die for the one you loved?”
Why the twist? 😬
😭😭😭
The turn. 😭😭😭