They took me over 800 kilometers to you, out of the South, on a path of asphalt, sand, and rocks I had never seen before.

There were two of me on that trip: one sitting on a cramped bus with the blood supply cut off from one butt cheek, the other watching from a distance in consternation.

Brave me should have told timid me you were worth facing down the fear.

You see, some people are sunshine in a bottle. Good for them.

You were firecrackers and sparklers, explosives in a shot glass, an uninsulated high-voltage cable stretched as a tightrope for me to walk on, sky-high without a safety net.

I don’t know the formula but there’s a mix of attraction and curiosity that can be likened to lust (on steroids) or an uncontrollable fire. It burns wild and it burns bright, but it also burns fast.

That was you and I, all “full-steam ahead!” till we ran out of fuel and stopped. No warning, no sputtering, just finality.


Remember how we melted into each other from texts to audible sounds to comfortable silence?

*darkness, breathing, peace*

Remember how space was space only till you stepped into it and filled everywhere with your infectious energy?

*cue the umpteenth pillow fight*

Dressed as scantily as the nippy weather would allow, you distracted me from my self-possession and reminded me that it’s okay to lose my inhibitions and cut the leash.

With you, walls dissolved the way well-made masa falls apart in the mouth.

“Put your laptop away, now.”


(Your kind of heat did not give a damn about resistance, and I learned surrender quickly.)

Colour me grateful.

Thank you for showing me how to melt, how to live in the moment and how to just, well, live.

“I want to show you something.”

(And for the fiery suya, your weightlessness and the feeling of having someone so different from everyone else that I could have been living a whole other life.)

At what was to be the end of everything, you said it didn’t feel like I belonged to you anymore.

“You’re no longer mine.”

I understand now.

Jos was Neverland and you were my miracle water. While we were there, in the bubble of your tiny apartment, anything was possible.

But then I left, back to a colorless reality and mundane safety.

The magic has since worn off.

Written by Oreoluwa Fakorede



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