LONESOME DREAMS - I'LL FIX YOU

It is not uncommon to meet amazing women for whom your admiration and flirtations ache to run to, for a tango. You know.., those dashing damsels you keep wondering where they've been all that while, you were busy being encumbered with a lady, heavily yoked with emotional baggage. The one you're happy to have left, but have left you hurting so bad because you suddenly woke up to happiness deferred.

So, these damsels... you pick out similarities, and find places where they compliment you, but that's where it stops. Mentally, you are not seeing anything beyond there, so when the damsel begins to poke demands for commitment, you stutter, not because your life doesn't say "I'm ready", but because your emotional resource is spent, you are even guilty of not loving yourself enough.

Sadly, it is you who has lost something you can not replace. A word, a smirk, a smell, an action, a reaction or lack of it, brings you back to a time when you overlooked something because...you were already on overdrive. Like being overdosed on drugs till you run into coma and give up. Then every now and then, you meet people who bring their bitter luggage with them to the table — a flashback, and you flee.

You begin to ask yourself hard questions, like whether you are ever capable of love again, if you are ever going to trust someone else again, even though in truth, it is whether you can trust yourself to be vulnerable with another person again. Often times, it is very complicated for these hearts. As complicated as the governance architecture of Bosnia & Herzegovina.

I'm here, unbundling my favorite Coldplay  songs which are seemingly still laced with demons from times past, timestamps to an event, a quote, a happy or sad moment, the beginning or end of something, or the truth, that i really need fixing!

Lonesome Dreams - Rules

Drew knew her love language was "gifts", so he gifted her with the things she needed. Topmost, was quality time. She loved her man to give her unrivaled attention. No matter where he was, she loved that he was glued to her. His time was valuable to him, and he risked a lot to share it with her.

She talked with a flint in her eyes which conveyed deeper thoughts than her lips could say. Often he would be glued, fascinated by the glow in her eyes when she talked. He loved to listen to her. She would talk about everything and any thing. Sometimes, he felt she was wasting his time, but he'd give it up still, to lend a listening ear.

He shared his library with her. Helping another grow mentally was something he was gifted at. He never was the one who would walk in to anyone's life and not make an impact. He was a potter, who liked to smoothen curves and chisel the malleable.

But, she primed herself with the vanity of life. She'd curse under her breath, why he chose to get her Rich Templar's "Rules" series, instead of that Jimmy Choo pair of wedges she had subtly suggested to him in that magazine at the airport.

He loved to travel, and he liked to bring her along. Not because he liked to be escorted, but because every time he traveled, he learnt something new - cultures, cities, economics, politics, beliefs, etc. And, he thought he needed to share this with her. She liked to hear him call her up to pack for the trips.

She was never the one for packing, so he memorized her wardrobe. He would call her and pick her colors, from her gowns to her shoes, to her cosette. Every time she met up with him, he would take his time to pack her bag properly.

Soon, he learned that it gave him quality time to spend with her. She would talk and tease him, while he folded and packed. Then he would share a few things he had learnt from the minutes he'd spent packing her bag. She liked that he invested time in knowing what she liked to wear, and the colors that tickled her eyes.

But, she loved vanity. And, Peter made her vain. He wasn't one for the long run. He was the perfect profile of the "misfit your girl would cheat with". He spoke with an unclear accent which epitomized his "bad boy" profile. Unruly, brutish with a knack for the booze and his smoke, his nonchalance attracted her to him.

She loved this, everything about him; except Drew was the one who seemed like he wanted a family, to get married, build something for the future. So, she was caught between her needs and her wants.

And, she flung caution to the winds, and plunged headlong for her wants...

I'M NOT CHEATING ON YOU

She told me about Chimamanda's book, Americanah that she was reading. The part where the lad traveled to school and left his girl in the care of his friend. We both laughed over skype, knowing fully well what transpired next, even though I had not read the book. In truth, she was talking to me, but I was too dumb to realize the logic. For she was already long gone in to the arms of another man. It was in March. It still froze. My judgment was beclouded with love - that ghost - to realize that the cold would send her into the bed of another. Lucky chap. Maybe a lonely Briton. Perhaps a lout.

Things were still rosy, even though I had raised eyebrows at the Facebook chat she had screengrabed and shared with me. The 'unknown' admirer. And then there was the birthday gift. Little did I know that the gifts were given in December, barely a few months after she had left for Wales. These two were tell-tale signs that Deola had left me. But I was still being stupid. We talked alot about the thickness of her winter jacket, the shop where she could get groceries from Nigeria, her coursework and the laptop I was saving up to get her. I hated for her to go to her friend's place first before we could skype. The privacy was non-existent.

I, Dimka Bernard was still love struck, and tied to the 'faithfulness' stake while she rode day and night by his side to school, then to the opera, the beach and even his bed. We argued over the email I had received from an anonymous person about spotting her and the Briton kissing on Bangor's streets. She chided me that it was a moment for my trust for her to be tested, "I am not cheating on you. People who know you online, see me interact with friends and course mates, and they freak out". I agreed. Though I was going through a rough patch, I was focused on her. She had just one year to spend in Wales and hopefully I will grow up to be that man who was right for her. I had swore, she'll be my last bus stop, so I invested every emotional resource I could muster. I was such a fool for love. A big one indeed.

I have now ended up in a pool of my own tears, with rage, anger, regrets, hate and grief as mates. For Deola riled me up to quarrel with her over my‪#‎WomanCrushWednesday‬ post on instagram of Bolanle Olukanni. Though Bolanle and I were good friends on snapchat, it was only on twitter that we grew our friendship. She was engaged to the father of her two year old son. I was secretly - which Deola hated with everything - in a relationship. And while in angst, she said she was walking away from what we shared.

Such silly jokes I thought. "How can you even break up with me on whatsapp? So I set about lending a car to drive to MMIA2 to pick her up in August when she was returning with her Masters. But she walked out of the "Arrivals" door, arm locked with a lad who had a moustache and an air about him that reeked of moral decline. She saw me and paused in shock. I gathered my now wobbly legs and dashed out into the milling crowd, half lost, half in rage as my chest to the left began to ache

A BROAD SMILE IN DECEIT

I can see what the darkness does
Say goodbye to who I was
For now, a heartless being roams
His heart eaten by a beast
A beast without a soul or girth
That one which went to and fro
With a broad smile in deceit
And said "he's a fool for love".

THROUGH MY EYES

All my eggs are cast in one
The other baskets have shells
Rotten eggs don't sink in a basin

My heart flows like clear water
The honesty now reeks as lies
Its burst cistern will tumble with rage

"Do as I say, I'll do as I will
Bottle up my rampage, it's not for sale
See the world only through my eyes."

My eyes have turned to shells
The yolk tumbles from rage
And I'm blind, for your eyes are shut

ABUJA (6)

Abuja, I need a call to the heart; 

Touch me with thy whisper; 

Cringe my skin with thy touch

ABUJA (5)

Abuja, thou has forsaken me;

Left, lorn, love lost, longing;

Amidst infidelity that overcrowds

ABUJA (4)

Oh! How I love you, Abuja; 

But there you go, spreading yourself; 

Wide open to other men - hustlers

ABUJA (3)

I'm in love with Abuja;

Her love strikes me with lightning bolt;

She kills me with wont!

EDEGBO

Edegbo was memory

Myth with whisper's wings

Cupid's prodigal child

I bargained for your heart

And you dally-ed a rock

Then threw cheese at me

After my arms built a tomb

And you slept in its womb

We profited from the sale of your soul

Before you decided to leave me hung

And cried for the comet and its show

I told you his tinder is but ashes

But you dimmed your light

And your silence cried for my arms

The tomb made only for you-

My maleness, that old prick

After we made gains

Of your heart's droppings

Fertilizer that grows my yearn

THE CRY FROM WAR

The wall of a bruises gazelle's Achilles
Rippling echoes, the cry from war
Where Harbinger's god bring to slander
Daisies from wilt's escape
When re-sown goatskin moults
Where emotion's silo roosts
Let Cupid sound the omen
Of lush panorama
The paradise of happily hereafter