a poem by UKAONU DORIS OBIANUJU, Nigeria

Somewhere between the walls and the grounds,
Like the walls I could easily lean on him,
My back to him were like the eggs that made no omelets...
Often times he was like the ground to me,
He had no grounds,
I did trample upon the umpteenth time...
For both, his groan was eternal,
Yet needing more.
I still would not forgive him for being a fool to my love.

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