Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge!

This is you

I stood still,
for you
Time couldn't,
She's like clockwork.
You're not.
I've wasted 3,656 days on you
Work it out
It's a troubling equation
An ideal,
Holding idealist hostage
A crack heads illusion,
Tainting realities fate,
Hope was brown eyes,
Sparkling with charisma
You were the speech,
The gypsies promised.
You were the speech
The gypsies promised

We dreamt of things
United in our failure
A fading bliss
The world would punish
We left salt in our mouths.
We left salt in our mouths
We marched corners of
A postcard
Grinding our teeth
Roaring oxygen out
Clothes have been folded
For over a year
Folded clothes have been here
for over a year
I hold my breath,
You have nothing left,
This is the you
I should have met.

Written by Otatade Iseghohi Okojie


Mr. Africa Poetry Lounge