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.