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Prologue: Lost in Nostalgia

Title: Prologue- Lost in nostalgia
Author: Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu

Theme: Fictional Lost Romance of childhood

I watched her grow
From toddler to teen,
Childhood of sweetness
Adulthood she glitters.

In the past, we flew
Kites in sites till ten,
Then we used to burst
Bubbles off our blisters.

See… I knew her when
Her big breasts were flat;
We played ten-ten alot,
We built houses with mud.

See… I knew her even
Before hips could twist;
Under the tree we slept,
Our bodies were never a rod.

Before the ripener was red
We jeered at each other
She was the fillet, I the bone;
On same part, old we grow.

Bodies in rain, we both stripped
Innocently, bathing together,
Until the kids in us were grown;
We were playmates in sun and snow.

Author: 

Onyeche Vincent Onyekachukwu.

Prologue: Black Apple

You are a black apple
On a familiar ground;
Renewing all the time.

Your charming sight,
As a bright cloak of light
Strengthens my cord, by God.

You are a ripe fruit on a tree,
The black apple of my eyes
That falls not far from me.

You drag me closer to hay,
Your nutrients day by day, 
Surely keeps the doctors away.

You are boneless like a fillet,
A pretty sweet forbidden fruit,
I shall eat; over and over again.

Prologue: Heists

Back in time, during our school days
We were classmates and even seatmates
You were so bright like the beam of rays;
And your beauty engraved my brain…

Best of the bests, you could right a wrong
Our friendship was everday, ever so strong
Unlike an uncoated iron untrusted in salt
Mysteriously, we grew refusing to rust…

When our classes were in session,
I hardly could even pay attention
Your beautiful imagery I saw and focused
Reflecting upon the wall and class board…

With my pen and breaking pencils 
I drew roses and wrote you letters
So many kind words, at the end of it
I wrote in disguise; yours sincerely pest…

Each day you read from the ghosty pest
You told me how kind and sweet he was
Often he even sent you bouquet of roses
I smiled, while we both watered it to grow.

Every other day, I wrote a love poem
To you as pest; although I never meant
To be a perpetrator nor anonymous,
But, I wasn’t bold enough to tell you…

Trust me, it broke my heart you loved,
The other me; texting pest and telling me
I wondered why you never figured out,
The twist and turn of my swivel chair….

Tears burned through my hazy eyes
I never meant to be the daily heist
I often wish I could erase every ink
But I feared, lossing a seatmate and friend.

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