Black Boy Review

Cold Splinter by Okuwoga Eyimofe


There I stood, an unmoving being 
A mere shard of memory 

The evidence of a wagered heart 

Drowned in in babble, constant murmurs 
But perhaps, I remember 

Before congealed became my heart 

When love was an undulating paradise

And we were the cast of erotica 
I recall the tenderness; the fondle 

Upon this savage path I stand 

In pathetic reminisce, the brain faints 

Upon the thoughts mirth ensued 
But here I still am, broken 

Dancing to the beats of my heart; despair 

I have made frequent domiciles 

In this bottlo where I lie. I become 

The piss artist painting tomorrow’s picture.

Okuwoga Eyimofe 

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