Love On A Walk Way

By Annah Atane 2 weeks ago

My cinnamon skinned lover lives in a one-room apartment,

Where we meet as often as we wanted to,

Somedays he whispers sweet nothing in my ears while I smile like a lottery winner.

Though I always felt something each time he makes those whispers,

But he feels nothing,  as he keeps packs of condoms and cigarettes in his pockets,

 He picks a stick and lits it right in front of me,

while I stare at his milk-colored room in my underwear

When he's done drawing strength from those sticks?

He unwraps me like a birthday present and after being unwrapped and explored on,

I ask only or don't even ask for the taxi fare home.

But later I'd realize that I should have asked for more. More than a taxi fare home. 

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Annah Atane
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