Ode to Our Bus Stop Love – Poetry

I can’t seem to stop asking myself the same question over and over again.
Where did I lose it
How did it all go wrong
I’m hanging by a single life thread and all my lifelines have been squandered on youthful extremities.
I can still hear our hushed voices over the silent fragrance of overdue nostalgia. In my mind’s eye, I can still trace the contours of your sleek cheekbones which sends cold shivers down my naked spine.
Cars keep rushing by in a haze of unbearable speed, flashlights occasionally pierce through the twilight which we’ve stamped our dangerous love in.
At times we talk about your numerous escapades or my interesting conflict of innocence despite a series of enduring random samplings across many experimental states of mind. Although one singular fact was clear, we both would rather hold on than let go of this sweet get away.
Another night is here and I keep waiting for the call but nothing comes. The mischief god creeps into my heart and makes silly jokes as usual but none bring laughter or succor for fear had strengthened its grip on my mind. What shall I do when this sweet experience turns sour so I took a note from him and decided on the weapon of destruct. Like the Yoruba’s gladly say to justify a wrongdoing, (acutely but not directly translated here), “To make progress in life, someone has to pay the price”.
I will never for a day regret our bus stop love.
But life they say is never a bed of roses and my dance with the devil began its toll on me. for now, I’ve had to pay the price for wielding the tool of mischief. While I got what I wanted, I lost sight of the process and took all for granted. I held on strongly to love and bus top memories but lost sight of our midnight walks under boulevards of trust, and soul strengthening.
Now I seek redemption and can only hope it’s not too late, for I’ve used up all my chances. My chants of leaps of faith have turned into silent groans for justice to be tempered with mercy. I have lost sight of goodness and ventured on the journey of imbeciles, putting everything at risk with my mindless foolhardiness.
I hope our bus stop love is enough to get me an inroad this one last time. I hope the sounds of midnight birds in the corridors of great buildings are enough to keep us together. I hope the memories of a teary-eyed kiss under the wailing storm in the dead of the night is foundation enough for a promised forever which lets go of my inadequacies.
This one last time and forever after.
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