Skip to main content

WHEN A BOY TELLS YOU HE LOVES YOU By: Umoru Olabode




When a boy tells you he loves you,
his words won't be easy,
his words won't be broken in English, he'll speak riddles,
he'll preach parables for your heart to be at ease.
To convey his message you'll need to focus,
on his eyes on your breast, on his lips licking sweet lies.
You'll need to focus on his accent, white and clean
laying on your shoulders ready to carry your beliefs.

When a boy tells you he loves you,
he won't mean it at first,
he'll retake the scene over and over again until he's awarded his first Oscars,
he'll cry over your dying garden, his speech will levitate,
He'll promise to bring the sun to your feet and your teeth will shine, your heart will glow,
Your stomach will unfold and break into freedom,
Your arms will open as will your legs.

When a boy tells you he loves you,
he'll be gentle as he creeps up your skin, he'll nail his words with a kiss and soon he'll leave you to hang,
Soon the over ripe memories of his fruits will rotten left for birds to scavenge,
Soon every line will fade behind his tongue.

That same boy innocent and sweet,
that same boy will rob you of your smile and paste a sour taste inside your mouth,
He'll forget to call you every morning to bring the sun to your feet,
Your teeth will become ghost haunting the hallway of your mind,
His words will be a tongue twister as he shutters the echoes will shatter your heart in darkness,
Your stomach will fold in pain, your arms will embrace your ribs
What a cold shame as your legs close at the mention of his name.

That same boy, you'll hardly remember when he said those words I love you
He chanted those spells without a wand or a warning, His voodoo is black magic and you're his sacrifice, you'll forget he's just a boy, broken by religion.

He's just a boy broken by culture, he's just a boy broken by the system.
Incomplete for you to see your reflection in him,
Too lost for you to be found in him,
Too sharp as he burst your bubbles floating in desire,
You'll forget he's just another broken boy, playing with words and spitting out fire.

SUB FREEMAN (Umoru Olabode) (Inspired by the poem "when a boy tells you he loves you" Edwin Bodney)

Comments

  1. Replies
    1. how i got my Ex lover back after a divorced by the help of DR NCUBE a marriage/relationship specialist. contact him if you need help WHATSAPP DR NCUBE ON +2348155227532
      his email is..... drncube03@gmail.com


      he also have #herbs for
      #hiv/aids
      #cancerdisease
      #fibroid
      #diabetes










      how i got my Ex lover back after a divorced by the help of DR NCUBE a marriage/relationship specialist. contact him if you need help WHATSAPP DR NCUBE ON +2348155227532
      his email is..... drncube03@gmail.com


      he also have #herbs for
      #hiv/aids
      #cancerdisease
      #fibroid
      #diabetes

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

DREAMS OF A perfect FAMILY VANDALISED BY A FAKE IFA PRIEST

Who is man to God? Who is God to man How much distance do our prayers cover by land? In relation to our circumstances and time What does man think of what he sees? And what does God see of what man thinks Emmanuel; God with us But Immanuel on Alakija Street is having spiritual blurred visions On a trip to the priest to inquire of what the future holds, Inheriting gold and paying exceedingly half its worth to verify if it’s gold The tales of Alamu the one with the gift of palmistry Brothers killed brothers, Because the other has been identified to be, The one who will inherit the gift of the fathers, Which of my kids shall be successful? Answers of which the priest shall deliver A gift of wine, a gift of hen, The fake priest gets fatter, Worshipers of the deity that sip champagne and eat gizzards Whilst living off the believers hazard Your mother is a witch Your sister is the glitch Until your siblings die your lineage shall not succeed, These priests we...

MAY YOUR ROAD BE ROUGH By Tai Solarin, Jan. 1, 1964

I am not cursing you; I am wishing you what I wish myself every year. I therefore repeat, may you have a hard time this year, may there be plenty of troubles for you this year! If you are not so sure what you should say back, why not just say, ‘Same to you’? I ask for no more. Our successes are conditioned by the amount of risk we are ready to take. Earlier on today I visited a local farmer about three miles from where I live. He could not have been more than fifty-five, but he said he was already too old to farm vigorously. He still suffered, he said, from the physical energy he displayed as a farmer in his younger days. Around his hut were two pepper bushes. There were kokoyams growing round him. There were snail shells which had given him meat. There must have been more around the banana trees I saw. He hardly ever went to town to buy things. He was self-sufficient.  The car or the bus, the television or the telephone, the newspaper, Vietnam or Red China were nothing to ...

TAPOTI By: Mao Zedong

Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, indigo: Who is dancing with these rainbow colours in the sky? Air after rain, slanting sun: mountains and passes turning blue in each changing moment. Fierce battles that year: bullet holes in village walls. These mountains so decorated, look even more beautiful today. Artwork via: Forbes