my parents bore me in the darkness of the buganda tribe.
in a mud hut,
that was short of life.
it barely kept its body and soul together upon my arrival.
because the straws that were made up its roof were withering,
like the love of my parents soon would.
i tell you
this
because
i have deleted you.
from every part of my being.
from every part of me that you ever touched - whispered into - smiled at
and from every dream you ever invaded.
we are became lost to each other.
i was wrong.
in
gravitating
to
you
simply because i so wanted to believe that we were the same level of damned.
hungry to believe that our rotten beginnings were enough
-
to drown out
the transient laughs masking the loneliness of this one-sided affinity.
in this ephemeral of existence,
this is what i know
of my mother and father’s life in love;
of the things, the human race mourns about… mourns for, and after
“love” -
should not be amongst them.
life is so long.
you will not be the only one that i fall in love with.
because
we were young when we got into a friendship.
without much thought.
but we learnt to grieve deeply when it was lost.
but we were better at hurting each other childishly,
like my parents.
