Scribblings Of A Dramatic Introvert

"My memory of her is probably the most clear from that year," she told me. "She had talon fingernails- red; It wasn't pretty." She drew a long breath, eyeing the vase that held my tulips in the centre of the glass table between us, as it contemplating whether to continue. I was about to suggest starting from something she felt more comfortable discussing rather than her memories from 2005, when she continued, "I was just six, but I knew it was slutty, especially her riding miniskirt. No lady should wear that and sit LIKE THAT. She had the hair too. You know, and the lipgloss- that shimmering red one. Her eyelids was painted like those girls they said were bad for marriage- I mean, it was 2005." "She was always sitting in front of my dad's car on those afternoons. We sat behind. Quiet. My mom taught us that; being quiet." She added, smiling. "Dad told us she was his sales assistant's wife. I believed him. I believed everythi...

She's a little old lady that attends my local church; Probably a septuagenarian. Her back is stooped low all the time. Nor does she dance much during Thanksgiving, Odd comfort to me as I am a mess on the dance floor (Nothing near a hot mess, just mess mess). Hers is probably due to arthritis. She's quiet; Not usual for women her age that attend my local church. She doesn't yell at little kids who just want to run and play after the service is over, Nor does she give "life hacks" to young mothers, trying to remind them of how "wrong" they are in raising their children. (Owwwww, you know nothing! The big old lady usually told eager mothers before she began lessons on how to choke a kid in the bid to force-feed). Ìyá ìjèṣà sometimes sleeps during the sermon (a lot of times is sometimes)- It's in English and I've never heard her speak the language. You see, she carries a Yoruba bible and asks a literate to write down the sermon...

First base: I tried not to take too much in all at once, Getting in way over my head, Letting you under my skin. Slowly you possessed me, And took me high as I stayed drawing warmth from your voice. The second: I tried. I told myself I had my acts together. I did, At first, But the weeks rolled by, Holding me, you got me through each flight higher. When you let go of my hands I found myself hitting rock bottom. It was then you taught me what second base felt like. I learnt to laugh in your presence, Forgetting the shame I had learnt to attribute to how my giggles made a deep throaty sound. Your fingers brushed my lips, And I knew your lips were close too So I shut my eyes and took you in. That was hallucinogenic; You literally took my breath away. Somedays I detox off you, Other times, I just slipped under your spell. Whenever I raised my head from below the waters, Your hand was there to cup my face; Fingertips brushing hair locks from my eyelids. That was third base. Then I lo...

Day 825 Your eyes; Squinting when you laugh hard under streams of sunlight, Lips muttering simple words my auditory cortices learnt to take as music. Your opinions get me nodding in agreement through and through. I put up squabbles, yet all it takes is you taking my hand in yours to make it all subjective. You are a whole religion. Your bubbly laughter in the nighttime, near intoxicating; Ricocheting through walls and leaving me lifelong memories. Your chuckles do more than just sit up in my cerebral cortices. They’ve made a rhythm of you, To which my feet have learnt to dance without inhibitions. Dúró tì mí A prayer I often offer, Even when the odds go against us, And I have to wade off side-talks about you. When everyone seems to pitch in one nasty comment or the other the minute you're out of sight. Constant reminders that I've lost myself, But they forget to note that I'd rather spend what is left of my lifetime gazing at you, Than embark on...

"Rather than fix it, I pulled down a hundred more veils." That's what I told him, I believe. What use is it to make yourself vulnerable, When you'd call more attention to your darkness? To what end do your intentions matter? Maybe if I stood behind a veil, I'd be left alone I made myself believe Another compromise Yet somehow a few managed to hold my gaze through this hypothetical veil "Let me fix you," some offered, hunger in their eyes Others(If this passes for everyone, all of them) weren't so keen "You're fucked up," they said; literally. So rather than be sulky I'm throwing it in My laughs would be louder And my paranoia top notch My indifference would be projected more clearly Let alone, I'd be just as I am Maybe there's no veil any longer This is me Unveiled Naked.

Welcome home Isn't it lovely? You try so hard to make a farce And realize you are as lost as you'd been five years ago It's been a long time Yet her voice is still as loud as ever Up in my head she's not screaming Just calling Come Home I can't go through I know the way home But I don't want to I want to be happy too I want to climb out of here I don't want to hear her call to me It drives me nuts I want to be alone But she always finds me And days when I fall to my knees Eyes shut in prayer Her voice, even louder rings in my ears I want to find peace I really do

  "Speaking of lovely; That's what I've always known them to be all my life. Their  skin- creamy white and their figure: eight- perfect for the view. I told  my father they were like mayonnaise. Some of them were white as sheet, adorned as the image of perfection. They had beautiful hair,  tumbling downwards in docile curls. Mine was ugly; it  remained an amusement to my brothers who  had made a game of hiding my combs just to see me run with the thick mane on my head every morning I had to visit the onídìrì. I had wanted just the hair as a little  girl. I spent good time staring at commercials that played on our fourteen inch TV set, in awe. My father usually snapped me out of it, sending me to my books; the  only way, he chanted day after night. Still , I was always mesmerized by them. I never did look down on my own skin. I didn't  realize we were worlds apart. Their  flow seeming unnatural, I once thought they were goddesses. I g...