False
4754;
Score | 73
Caramel Nigeria
Student @ Babcock University
In Literature, Writing and Blogging 1 min read
Red.
<p>I am… soft for you.</p><p>Permeable.</p><p>Easy.</p><p>It had rained on the day we met, me in hysterics, screaming at the doctor, you trying to intervene, then running out into the rain to find me.</p><p>You didn’t know me, but you wanted to make sure I was okay. You held me the way people hold fragile things: carefully, cautiously. For a second, I forgot about my mother.</p><p>Now I stare at you across the hole dug out for her. We’ve come a long way, almost a year now actually. But I know better now.</p><p>I know the tears in your eyes are lies. I know it was you who put that bullet in my mother, sentencing her to years in a coma, tethered to machines. I was right behind you when you shoved the pillow over her face.</p><p>And yet… I still love you.</p><p>Even knowing the confraternity you were in, the long list of evil you had done. I love you, Posi.</p><p>But a debt must be paid.</p><p>I tell you these things as I ride you into oblivion after the funeral. You’re lost in it, body shaking in an uncontrollable rhythm.</p><p>That’s when I cut you—right across the carotid—then turn the knife on myself.</p><p>And because I am soft for you, the blade glides in almost painlessly.</p><p>…</p><p><em>I love you, Posi.</em></p>

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