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I have never loved so, Tí ara è mú, 2023 | Poetry

As the years roll by the carcasses of lovers past imprinted on memory are projected showing only the best times.


The highlights, sweet times, snuggles, holding, healing and peacefulness.

The ebb and flow of it all that seemed to last forever, but came around burning soon.

The disillusion, the mistrust, the trauma, the world circling in, we were strong, we were young, we were all that the eye could see and feel, meshed in, we were always one.


What did we not dream? 


A merge of blood lines and a covenant to bind us, babies, homes, wealth, steadiness, commitment, infatuation with one another, home.


What did we not dream? 


Travel, rest, exploration, dancing, cuddles, expansion, networking, building, play.


What did we not dream?


Passion, therapy, holding, joy, care, life, peace, romance, truth, stillness and the scatter of mess. 


What did we not dream?


To say that I miss you is an understatement. 

You were home, you were kind, you smelt like love, you were joy, you made the sun and the stillness of clouds beautiful, you were everything.


The moments, the holding, the swaying, the dancing, the breathing. Ear to chest, I would follow every beat till sleep took me.


Getting hugs from behind when cooking, gentle kisses on ears, hands wrapped around belly, front to curve like jigsaws, no one held me quite like you.


It hurts


It absolutely takes no joy to not wake up to your dancing face, and beautiful smile. To not see your locs move around, to not hear you call, to not watch you walk, to not see you breathe, to not hear your adventures, to not have you here, to not watch you dance, to not see you take pictures, to not watch you eat, to not hear you say hmmmmn when the food is good, to not rub noses, to not hold hands..


The vacancy is killing 


I’m losing breadth, ageing as though there is no time though there is, laughing to get through, distracting self with planning and applications and writing, and oftentimes I’m crying.


I’m wailing, I’m subbing, sometimes in my mind's mind, sometimes in my heart and sometimes in my body.


Food used to taste like stone, chest would hurt, money felt useless and time didn’t feel like it made a difference when we left.


The feelings of regret


Please know that you were love


Oh how I miss you so 


Tí ara è mú

© 2023 Tomilola Olumide, All Rights Reserved
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