You wear my heartbreak on your face.
You have taken everything from me.
I know I’m dying but all I can muster is to call you a slut in front of my friends in a crowded bar surrounded by strangers.
All I can do is come home to you, early.
Sit in my car and weep silently.
I can only think of ways to bring it up to you.
I can simply guess how you’ll react.
I imagine coming home grabbing a beer from the fridge and smugly telling you how beautiful you looked when I saw you with him.
You were wrapped up in his arms.
How you were wearing the prettiest shade of crimson on your cheeks.
Reminded me of the color of a
You are quiet and it makes me nervous.
I keep waiting for something to happen.
Waiting for the other shoe to drop,
For our happy little bubble to burst.
You’ve been coming home late.
When I confront you about it you snap at me.
You gripe about how work keeps you busy,
And then you just shut down.
That’s not like you.
It must be the wild hibiscus,
Making you so cold, callous.
Must be what it’s doing to you.
It’s stealing you away like a thief in the night.
Seems the more you work the stronger the scent of it gets. It’s so bad now, I’m choking on it. I can feel it smothering me. Whenever you leave a room it lingers for a while, waiting for me to catch a whiff of it, just enough to make me nauseous before it follows you.
I’ve taken to fleeing the house now.
Exploring this sleepy little town.
Hunting for a place to call my own.
Someplace I can build a haven for us.
I found the perfect place, but I’m scared to tell you. I’m worried if I do, you’ll follow. I want you to follow, but you might bring that smell. That wild hibiscus might come with you. So I haven’t mentioned it yet. I’m just waiting to be able to breathe around you again.
Who is she? -Ngozi