Picture Imperfect

You once told me that I come with a lot of garbage. That I'm a whole mess of a girl. That I'm a lot. And so I begged you, in my words,  I said "could you please let me in because at least I'm not the garbage itself". Of course you did, because you couldn't bear to see me cry.


I need you to think and wonder. What would the garbage guy be doing in your neighborhood if there were nothing for him to pick up?

It's the end of sanity when you tell me to go to hell. Hell I remember you saying is for the man who thinks himself more righteous than the judge. Oh please remind me; remind me not to forget to put your name in the hellish places in my head.  My head where you played drums of Bata and battles I didn't know I could win. And so I didn't know I could sing a song of victory. I didn't know I could dance, dance myself to freedom from the garbage you. YOU were my garbage. You were the hell beneath my heaven. You were the lord I shouldn't have bowed to. The priest I shouldn't have confessed to. YOU were my every curse.

I wrote you in pictures of memories I have now deleted. Pictures of memories I have now deleted. I write you in songs I never sang. I write you this letter that you would never read till the day you sleep and never wake because only then you would know I have forgiven you. Because I have forgiven you.

Chukwu Onyinye.

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