I remember when you said,
"It was not me,
Nor should I blame myself."
But I can't stop wondering if I could have done something different.
Did I miss the signals?
We spoke twenty times a day,
Sharing every last detail on the phone,
Through text, or lying in each other's arms.
How my sadness has grown desperate, lost,
I am choking in pain.
Memories of your contagious laugh,
Your tender touch, your gentle confidence persist.
Your silent attitude itches me like worms in my anus.
Things that seem interesting us are now irritating.
Hot like Atacama our house is getting!
Alas! Love is missing.
I am sorry I quitted,
But it was fast becoming unrequited.
I pray to the Lord
To repair your broken heart
To your missing jigsaw
That won't make use of the razor.
Our love fast became an antique,
And I didn't want my "I love you's"
To seem like an antic.
These hurtful words run past my finger tips,
Faster than an athlete.
I was rich enough to pay attention to us.
But once I went broke,
I left the signal "heart to let."
I got in a fight with my feelings,
But I lost the right words
To fight for our love.
I am your book that left the shelf.
©Musa Oyiza Rahama &