₦airaland Forum

Be gentle with my heart,

Love,
It’s a fragile little thing.
My mother once made chicken eggs with us when we were children. We each picked an egg, they almost all looked and felt exactly the same. Rounded and smooth like marble and made you think they were sturdy as stone, but could make quite a mess if broken. We took turns gently pin pricking the tip of the egg to allow the insides to come out and to allow the empty shell to dry. When I was young there were no metaphors or similes, there were no heartbreaks and poems, there was just words and just life. The yellow goop that dropped out of the egg wasn’t a metaphor for how my heart felt when you left. The pin, not to be compared with the blade in my heart when you said you don’t love me. The fragile shell left behind was not a way to describe what you left when you walked away. No, it was just an egg. We pulled out delicate paint brushes and beautiful paints in an attempt to paint the masterpiece that we had created. Gentle strokes, back and forth and back and forth pausing only long enough to let one section dry before starting another. But that’s all it was, painting.Not the way I painted a mask to hide my pain from the world, to hide my fear of dying alone. Not the way I keep myself busy to avoid facing the empty side of my bed or to avoid thinking about you because if I pause too long the memory will dry out and then I’ll have to admit it’s true. No, this is just paint. We finished our eggs and let them dry in the setting sun on a summer day. We picked them up and carefully carried them to their own special pedestal for display, so proud of what we had made. I am in the sun now, my tears are drying faster than I can cry them and there’s this memory. Excited feet in big bird slippers running down wooden steps, I hope someone will come pick me up soon, place me on my own pedestal and finally admire me for the masterpiece my mother created. I deserve to be the display for once, though my mother’s words still echo in my ears like mountains, down through the hallway in which I used to run,
Be gentle with that egg,
Love,
It’s a fragile little thing.

Wow the poem is nice las las ladies are scam

Just leave me alone

Please don't cause me depression.
Am not begging you to make you feel inferior over me, or make look like a kid who lost the compass to the future.
But please listen to me while I still have a voice to say something.
I said I LOVE YOU not because I wanted to sound good or say something to tease you. Don't you think it nice I tell you my feelings. Do you think am as fake as the guy next door who don't even think before promising you the world. I know I don't get to promise you things you needed to. Just look around you and you find out my love surrounds you like the air you breathe. Just feel it and tell me you love me too. I guess this was all I wanted from the you, you took my feeling for granted, you located my weakness and made fun of it.
I wish you left after all this happened. Instead you even wanted to break every part of me. Now look what you turn me to..........
A lovable beast. I remember telling you that you were the best thing that ever happen to me, but I guess that was a mistake because clearly you are one of the worst things that has ever happen to me. Writing you this note will not even say how broken hearted I am. But I just want you to know this, if me loving you was a crime, then please don't be the judge... Because you might just get the reason I committed the crime. From here I say goodbye my lover
Goodbye my friend
Thanks for giving me a story to tell