Adieu, my lover

that’s not my lover.

I have since taken up

this cross to bear us all



I’ll write a lovely note but

you’re far away. I’ll blow it

into the winds, perhaps the

leaves will carry it, perhaps

the ‘eary’ walls will deliver it.


It was your face I sought

when illness court my bed,

but you never came. I called

your name but the walls

bounced it back at me, for

I alone know the many thrills

we’ve had – with or without you.


And so I sit here, far away,

hiding when you walk by, for

I haven’t the courage to call

out, to try the waters, to make

my addiction real and my

confession, past.



©Sọlá Dọjà


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