I do not believe in miracles therefore,
I am not expecting anyone to come save me.
Here I am, filling my body with sand, hoping
something beautiful would grow out of my stomach.
For the first time in a long while, I am not thinking
about leaving or suicide. This is a win, but for whatever reason,
I am not seeing it as such. I grew up with photo films,
things unsaid, & the memory of the girl with great hair
kicking me in the face & leaving me with a permanent scar.
I know this longing because I have seen it in its barest form.
After scrolling endlessly through Tinder, I decided to go
on a walk with two femme boys. Here, I discovered
the worst part of us all is the best part of us.
There was a lot to unpack from their stories but our grief
united us & we faced our demons as one; three gay boys
smoking by the roadside in Ilorin, not paying attention to
the darkness inside of our chests. For the first time in a long while,
I feel like I belong somewhere. The neighbour I have never spoken to
is playing a sad song on his guitar & I connect with him in ways
I have never connected with anyone before. There is a paradox
doing my head in &I am doing nothing to stop it from running its course.
From my mother, I learnt the art of surrendering
so I let this song wash over me & cleanse me of all my guilts.
A new song is picking up at the back of my throat & I will be here long enough
to dance to it.