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Ibironke—Tell Me

The number one thing I dreaded as a boy while growing up was being in love. For me love was a kind of movie thing: it was a childish fantasy; a make-believe kind of emotional display; a staged affinity and feeling meant to be looked at from the other side of the fence.

It was like a complimentary dessert of brownie one gets as a regular in a restaurant.

I had no plans for love… but hell, that spider sneaked up on me.

So, most times when you beg me to forget about you, I get confused and ask myself: how does one stop loving something that’s already a part of oneself?

You came into my life when I was in love with something else, took away the worries and presented yourself as a better option—a near-solution to late stage hypertension, and now you want to abandon me?

Ibironke…

Is this really how this love works?

Ibironke, tell me… is this really how this love works because I am losing my head?

I’m losing my mind.

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