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All I ever wanted
Was to lift your skirts
The long red one you used to wear
When we first met

All I wanted was to lift your skirt
The short black one you wear
When you come visiting having adventure
It was never marriage peradventure

You would not listen to signs
You’re busy stirring
You’ve cooked a pot of soup
Ogufe, Eran Igbe, Gbegiri and amala

You’ve washed the clothes
The thick jeans
Your finger has bled

All I ever wanted
Was to undo your blouse
Did you really think a ring?
No! I didn’t want it to be

I said love
And you pictured yourself in gown
In some church somewhere
Your younger sister leading the choir in singing
And myself in dead black morgue suit

All I wanted was you on the couch
Eyes lifted up
Mouths gasping for breath
Did I ever tell you forever?

I have had what I wanted
But you haven’t had what you want
And you never would
Stop telling me about your friend’s fiancee

Don’t you read the messages?
I leave my phone open
So you could get jealous
But you never do

Do you not read the signs?
I thought the last fight would end it all
But you said sorry
I know myself I caused it

You are a beautiful lady no doubt
But I’ve got a long life ahead
All I wanted was to mount
To lift your skirt

How do I drop these words
Without the shatter of a glass?
Or would you read this and come back
To tell me you loved my poem?

It isn’t a poem
It is a message
There would be no black suits
And no flowing white gowns

No marriage

All I wanted was to lift your skirt
In the kitchen, staircase and city outskirt
There would be no suits
I have none.

By Agoreyo Rukevwe, a 400 level Law student at Obafemi Awolowo University
Source :Wife Material

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