My Awkuzu Mistake
Maybe it’d been a perfect end
That time we shared at Awkuzu
On crumpled cotton bedsheets—
Testimony of what we called love
Or maybe we should’ve just ended it
That infamous night in February
You confessed I was not the only one
And yet you called it love
That was not the only lie you were telling
He was not the only thing you were hiding
Why did I ever think we were something?
Why didn’t I accept we were nothing?
*Awkuzu is a village near the Nigerian city of Awka.
Author Bio: Emmanuel Stephen Ogboh
Emmanuel Stephen Ogboh started writing his observations and experiences four years ago, inspired by Lisa Smallwood, an American poet. His works have since appeared in Tuck, Better Than Starbucks, Fourth Wave, Vox Poetica, Literary Yard, Down in the Dirt and elsewhere. He lives in eastern Nigeria and just recently dropped out of school.