I missed you. Believe me when I say it, I missed you. I missed that rush, that pleasurable sensation that accompanies the butterflies in my stomach each time I come in contact with you. I missed what you did to me every precious second I spent with you; away from the prying eyes of the society. I missed the inner peace, the inner peace that follows the exhilaration I experience each time I know I’ve satisfied your needs. I missed that little voice (Yep. I hear voices in my head like every other crazy person), that calm little voice that constantly whispers into my psychotic head, telling me that you’re mine- ‘my precious’; that voice that often reminds me that we belong to each other.
I missed the soothing effect you have on my beleaguered soul.
Sadly, it didn’t end there. I was also tormented. You know that feeling? That constant reminder that you haven’t done something in a long while because of your inertia. It took over what was left of my psyche.
That itch.
That longing, that unforgiving nostalgia; it took over my dream whorl each cold night; tormenting me, reminding me of the sensation I crave. That’s right . . . you.
But . . . I’m back now. Yes, my dear hotjollof, I’m back baby!! Like a child ensconced in the mother’s warm embrace after a long day, I’m all yours. You see, I didn’t plan for our separation to happen this way; but hey; shit happens. I don’t want to blame Buhari for our separation (you know, it’s cool to blame him for everything – even global warming), but I know that our separation had something to do with being Nigerian. Yes, I said it. The Nigerian factor tried to separate us, but it couldn’t. Trust me, this would never happen again. I’d never leave you again like the last unfortunate grains of rice we leave in our plates whenever we eat in a restaurant(because its uncouth to lick your plate in public *rolls eyes*).
Nothing will come between us again, not even that biased thing called life.

Photocredit: Lindaikejisblog.com

I lost hope in humanity a long time ago. Now sarcasm is my only defense.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.