you were not told that smiles do not soothe a forlorn heart, that shut eyes do not hold back tears
sip liquor for the heartache
look in the mirror and see your eyes hold what is true,
do the happy steps like problems will be gone with vertigo when your eyes open in an uncanny place,
the grin with dry lips will give a different look when it’s all over,
an odd pain that comes from the truth turned away from, will swirl in you again
eyes gleaming will make you suck your lip,
this thing called pain scorch,
it bites into where it hurts most
if sorrow truly had a colour, it wouldn’t be a colour; it wouldn’t exist
we would make these balls in our skulls lie as well,
because sadness is for the miserable
I do not scratch nibs in my right sense,
right sense is when illusion’s thumbs curve erect
subtleness of the subconscious is my solace
let’s pretend like the universe was made for our exploration; like the stars weren’t made out of a spark; like leaves span with trunks; like everything the bird says is a song
let’s pretend like there’s love in the pale blue sky,
and keep the tip of our toe kissing the dust.
Nwadu Onyebuchi
is an enthusiastic reader, writer, and teacher. He hails from Delta State, Nigeria where he writes. When he is not writing or reading, he is in the classroom. His works have been published in Blithe Up magazine, and elsewhere.
