My heart needs a lock of its own
arms are the worn muscles grappling with my inner desires. i walk out-of-bound halls and let decors whisper definitions of forbidden into my ears.
the devil soothes my hackles and pours lava of urgings into my veins. he waxes poetic about my possession of choice. the lines are heavy with the promise that I'll only make the bad ones.
don't tell me my heart does not need a lock!
fasten your tongue and let me shove the part of me that bleeds darkness into a box. even you do not want to be the pandora that opens this one.
Fareedah Agberemi is a Nigerian student whose survival is hinged on her consumption of coffee and shortbread. When she's not writing, she's trying to drink as much water as is healthy.
Comments