And because the heart
takes the form of a bottle
And I can’t dam
a running river on my mattress.
Twice,thrice, four times
Why do I care?.
How many stitches
does it take to dress up
In a scarf made of lemons?.
Pain allows me the clarity of red and black
My tears are no different from shards
I won’t lie, I’m not happy on my own.
My warmth is as fickle as fire.
My tongue paves road that wouldn’t converge at the mouth of an ocean
My mouth digs fingernails
On the ceilings below my head
For the things I wish to say
Are far from my reach.
Ears fall to the ground the shape of a hand
In prayer to a god
that lives in timber.
And perhaps it’s the dirt or depth of this
Or signals in the fog
Each breath is a mountain to climb
It gets as hot
As when you cook diamonds into pastes
My ear bites off by one word it doesn’t want to hear
Whereas the only thing that really matters
When they saw you as a dangerous bee hive
I saw a sanctuary that makes honey
When they saw you as an avalanche
Rushing out to level a city
I saw a rare blessing
When they saw you as a tornado
Whirling on a dune
I simply saw an air to breathe
When they saw you as a volcano
I saw a sweet innocent boy
Who needs to let go of his pain
At the feet of a mountain,
One can surmount and be seen.
But when I saw you
As the falling rain that soothes
It was your choice to pelt me with your sting
It was your choice to kill my heart
To make a monster out of me.
And because you broke me,
You get to dance on the splinters
It was all your choice, remember.
Olopade Oluwatosin Janet is a college sudent, studying Communications and Language Art. She loves writing and reading. Her poems come from a personal part of her, and they are written in transference of the protest of Silence she carries in the real world.