I was a stray waif before I met you.
Alone. Lost. Broken. But hopeful.
Mistrust is a heavy cloak. But the world is cold.
'Come closer, let me love you.' You said.
I shook my head.
You promised not to hurt me.
My head protested. But my soul is weary.
I fell for those feathery touch with which,
You took off my cloak.
I showed you the scars of my bandaged heart.
'It's okay. I'll heal you.' Your voice, assuring.
Your touch, soothing.
I closed my eyes and rested on your bosom.
My soul is weary.
And just when I needed you the most;
In the dread of the night.
When the ghosts of my memories come to haunt me.
You vanished. And became one of them.
M. O. Bamidele
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