Sometimes, I think I am greedy. There is a yawning chasm right beneath my breast that swallows everything I throw at it. It swallows my heart, sometimes, and spits it back out at my face on a random Monday. I have perfected the art of reattaching my arteries, cleaning the blood off my face, giving the lump of muscle one squeeze, two squeezes, and going about my day.

But lately, you have started to ask me where I go when my skin turns cold and blue and I do not come back home. I will tell you, today, because it took three squeezes before my heart restarted this time and I think I am becoming my father. Because I am scared, and there is guilt pouring into my bones and filling my head. I will tell you what happens when my heart, your home, is stolen out of my chest and I forget what warmth is.

But before I do, promise me, ololufe, promise me that you will still keep the door open. I always crawl back, don’t I? Sooner or later, I always crawl back.

My heart holds many things, not just you, my darling. It holds my kindness and my remorse, it holds most of my softness, apart from the one in my skin, it also houses my anchor to home. So, I drift. The wind buoys me and I am scattered like a ragdoll. My fingers find myself in the sticky red of sin, slick and clever. My tongue jumps out of my head and runs to the ocean to whisper in the ears of the sirens, my eyes follow, but to the mermaids instead, they have learned to expect me, they do a lovely dance. I imagine it is new for them, eyes that appreciate, that are not attached to hands that steal and ravage. They always make sure to give me a show, reveling in their beauty without fear of being plundered and defiled.

One time my feet found themselves halfway to hell and they were saved by my nose who just happened to be there and smelt the burning flesh. It still took a lot of convincing for them to turn back. Feet are stupid, you can imagine, and they have craved hot coals ever since they have learned they can’t ever dance on them. It is habit of mine, you are well aware, even when I am at home with you, this desperation for corruption. We do not talk about that, however, I rarely think about the time I spend away from home, I like to pretend that is someone other than myself. Yes, pretend, because I do the same dance and say the same words and appreciate the undulating waists of the gold covered mermaids the same way I do with you when we are home.

Ololufe, remember that you promised? Let me finish explaining.

My soul goes to hell, always, without fail. Like a moth finds a flame, my soul pours out of the open hole of my chest and runs straight into its shackles near the devil’s chamber. They know me there too, the demons know me by name. They cheer when I arrive and break out the thumbscrews. They urge me to make my feet dance faster, to add some more oil to my already slippery tongue, to inch closer to the mermaids, ignoring the jeweled box with the lock they always have waiting, with the purple velvet pillow. And Ololufemi, I admit that I am not strong, I never have been. I will do anything to avoid the tearing and breaking and suffering they promise. I try, Ololufe, I promise that I try.

It is dark in this chamber and everything smells of sulphur, when I stay there long enough, I forget the shape of your eyes and the cadence of your name. All I want to do is placate the (my) demons and make them set me free. If it was you, Ololufe, will you not dance, and lie, and look?

They have been keeping me there for longer, and longer, for a while now. The price becomes steeper each time, and yesterday, I got close enough to the mermaids that they finally captured my eyes and took it under the ocean. And I’m so sorry, Ololufe mi, I am so so sorry, but I might have fallen in love.

That is why I came back home last night with the rose colored glasses, my eyes did not return with me. They are there now, forever watching the mermaids dance, and I am shaking with the guilt of it. Because the chasm has returned my heart, my soul has once again imbued my body, and I have crawled back to you. But for the first time, I did not return whole.

Do you still want me, Ololufe? Even if my eyes are elsewhere?

I know what you will say, my love. I do not blame you, but please understand that I tried. I fought my nature beneath your banner, and I won so many battles, but I am losing the war. So I have decided to come and plead my case, Ololufe, because I swear to the gods above and below that I can regrow my eyes and behold you again, and I will be whole for you if you let me come inside and lay at your pillow. I will be multiple, for you, if you will let me.

I am just so weary of fighting, my bones creak with it, my soul aches with it, and I feel like Atlas with the burden of the world he can never shed. I still belong to you, I will always belong to you, perhaps not entirely, but I am hoping you can forgive me for that, I tried. Will you let me rest and heal, Ololufe, and keep the door open for me?

Walahi I will always come back, walahi. If I lose myself I will regrow my fingernails with the will of the heavens and the hells, and dig them into your doorframe, if I know you are waiting at home for me. Just, take this guilt from me and tell me that you love me still. I know I am asking for a lot, but look at me, pathetic and broken, stumbling into the furniture. I will take your pity if it keeps the door open, I will take your anger. Shaanu mi, duro de mi, I will always come back.

Ololufe: Lover

Shaani mi, duro de mi: pity me, wait for me

Sometimes, I think I am greedy. There is a yawning chasm right beneath my breast that swallows everything I throw at it. It swallows my heart, sometimes, and spits it back out at my face on a random Monday. I have perfected the art of reattaching my arteries, cleaning the blood off my face, giving the lump of muscle one squeeze, two squeezes, and going about my day.

But lately, you have started to ask me where I go when my skin turns cold and blue and I do not come back home. I will tell you, today, because it took three squeezes before my heart restarted this time and I think I am becoming my father. Because I am scared, and there is guilt pouring into my bones and filling my head. I will tell you what happens when my heart, your home, is stolen out of my chest and I forget what warmth is.

But before I do, promise me, ololufe, promise me that you will still keep the door open. I always crawl back, don’t I? Sooner or later, I always crawl back.

My heart holds many things, not just you, my darling. It holds my kindness and my remorse, it holds most of my softness, apart from the one in my skin, it also houses my anchor to home. So, I drift. The wind buoys me and I am scattered like a ragdoll. My fingers find myself in the sticky red of sin, slick and clever. My tongue jumps out of my head and runs to the ocean to whisper in the ears of the sirens, my eyes follow, but to the mermaids instead, they have learned to expect me, they do a lovely dance. I imagine it is new for them, eyes that appreciate, that are not attached to hands that steal and ravage. They always make sure to give me a show, reveling in their beauty without fear of being plundered and defiled.

One time my feet found themselves halfway to hell and they were saved by my nose who just happened to be there and smelt the burning flesh. It still took a lot of convincing for them to turn back. Feet are stupid, you can imagine, and they have craved hot coals ever since they have learned they can’t ever dance on them. It is habit of mine, you are well aware, even when I am at home with you, this desperation for corruption. We do not talk about that, however, I rarely think about the time I spend away from home, I like to pretend that is someone other than myself. Yes, pretend, because I do the same dance and say the same words and appreciate the undulating waists of the gold covered mermaids the same way I do with you when we are home.

Ololufe, remember that you promised? Let me finish explaining.

My soul goes to hell, always, without fail. Like a moth finds a flame, my soul pours out of the open hole of my chest and runs straight into its shackles near the devil’s chamber. They know me there too, the demons know me by name. They cheer when I arrive and break out the thumbscrews. They urge me to make my feet dance faster, to add some more oil to my already slippery tongue, to inch closer to the mermaids, ignoring the jeweled box with the lock they always have waiting, with the purple velvet pillow. And Ololufemi, I admit that I am not strong, I never have been. I will do anything to avoid the tearing and breaking and suffering they promise. I try, Ololufe, I promise that I try.

It is dark in this chamber and everything smells of sulphur, when I stay there long enough, I forget the shape of your eyes and the cadence of your name. All I want to do is placate the (my) demons and make them set me free. If it was you, Ololufe, will you not dance, and lie, and look?

They have been keeping me there for longer, and longer, for a while now. The price becomes steeper each time, and yesterday, I got close enough to the mermaids that they finally captured my eyes and took it under the ocean. And I’m so sorry, Ololufe mi, I am so so sorry, but I might have fallen in love.

That is why I came back home last night with the rose colored glasses, my eyes did not return with me. They are there now, forever watching the mermaids dance, and I am shaking with the guilt of it. Because the chasm has returned my heart, my soul has once again imbued my body, and I have crawled back to you. But for the first time, I did not return whole.

Do you still want me, Ololufe? Even if my eyes are elsewhere?

I know what you will say, my love. I do not blame you, but please understand that I tried. I fought my nature beneath your banner, and I won so many battles, but I am losing the war. So I have decided to come and plead my case, Ololufe, because I swear to the gods above and below that I can regrow my eyes and behold you again, and I will be whole for you if you let me come inside and lay at your pillow. I will be multiple, for you, if you will let me.

I am just so weary of fighting, my bones creak with it, my soul aches with it, and I feel like Atlas with the burden of the world he can never shed. I still belong to you, I will always belong to you, perhaps not entirely, but I am hoping you can forgive me for that, I tried. Will you let me rest and heal, Ololufe, and keep the door open for me?

Walahi I will always come back, walahi. If I lose myself I will regrow my fingernails with the will of the heavens and the hells, and dig them into your doorframe, if I know you are waiting at home for me. Just, take this guilt from me and tell me that you love me still. I know I am asking for a lot, but look at me, pathetic and broken, stumbling into the furniture. I will take your pity if it keeps the door open, I will take your anger. Shaanu mi, duro de mi, I will always come back.

Ololufe: Lover

Shaani mi, duro de mi: pity me, wait for me