Miss Rouge To Theo Poem by Onyi Ogwumike

“Forming rips in time, so fragile, that even the caress of a mourning old man looking upon the face of his life’s last joy wilting as the rose she truly is, isn’t delicate enough to mend them. Tearing the tears from my eyes, with the littlest mercy you could muster, you drag me along this path to die in my own self loathing? As if when I grasped the pulsing, red heart from your chest I tore my own from the home it had likewise made in there besides yours. Simultaneously, destroying both of our hopes and dreams. Both mine and your twinkles of day again rising dimmed in the corner of our same brown iris. As if unconsciously as we grew apart we only grew closer in some realm unknown. A realm in which Life sits mockingly upon her throne casting down only the smallest, overused amenities to calm our restless souls. To keep them in a slumber, while she watches their nightmares manifest. Well I, dear sir, refuse. Let the chains of my worn soul clank to her displeasure. May Life’s forehead pound with the same violent pain that envelops my heart.”