I do not ask that you return; I do not ask that you not run – far from it…
Hey Wura! I heard you left.
I heard you picked up your things and left the keys… I heard you walked out the door; your back, the last they saw.
Hey Wura! I see your right.
I see your note; the one you write about your entitlement to flight… I see the words you dropped; they ill conceal your fright.
Hey Wura! I have tasted your hurt.
I have gobbled the bile; the one with the tang of a cigarette’s butt… I taste the outrage of your pain; but in mutilations and revellings is there gain?
Hey Wura! I hold you dear.
I have touched you; I touch you even now with genuine care… A care void of judgement; care that can bear, care that won’t tear. A care; that hears.
Hey Wura! I smell your doubts
The odour of disbelief; insecurities that shine through the screen of your bluster bouts… I smell the pain, the fumes of self rage; these are toxic – don’t you know they have no gain?
Hey Wura! I sense your need
I sense your need for valid love; not the wanton lust they throw at you… A hand to hold, a chest to rest your head; your womb a growing bed for my seed.
Finally My dear Wura.
I do not ask that you return; I do not ask that you not run – far from it…
I only ask that you do not leave – I ask my dear Wura; that you run on the spot.
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Quirky and a little weird, Tunde Kara is a generation fluxer who has his hands in a lot of pies. You guessed right – writing is one of them.
30 Days, 30 Voices series is an opportunity for young Nigerians from across the world to share their stories and experiences – creating a meeting point where our common humanity is explored.
Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.
Me, I am jealous of Wura