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77
Dolapo Oludairo
Creative Director @ VFE
Scripts of the Universe
<p><span style="background-color: rgb(255, 255, 255); color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5px;">Is it me?</span></p><p><sub>Or did the universe already sign the contract—</sub></p><p><sub>without my name on it?</sub></p><p><sub>Already knew how this would go,</sub></p><p><sub>Where I'd be,</sub></p><p><sub>Whether joy would bloom in my hands</sub></p><p><sub>or bitterness would rot between my fingers.</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>Is it just me...</sub></p><p><sub>or do they keep coming,</sub></p><p><sub>and going,</sub></p><p><sub>like merry-go-rounds?</sub></p><p><sub>Spinning.</sub></p><p><sub>Familiar faces in unfamiliar seasons.</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>Yes.</sub></p><p><sub>I’m talking about the men.</sub></p><p><sub>From H... to C...</sub></p><p><sub>and all the ones who still haunt my sightline.</sub></p><p><sub>Am I a hospital now?</sub></p><p><sub>Because they only show up when they're bleeding.</sub></p><p><sub>When the world kicks them down</sub></p><p><sub>and they need a soft place to crash—</sub></p><p><sub>I'm the crash pad.</sub></p><p><sub>The cure.</sub></p><p><sub>The pill.</sub></p><p><sub>The medicine only I can be.</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>Yes.</sub></p><p><sub>They made me their medicine.</sub></p><p><sub>And baby, you don’t crave medicine</sub></p><p><sub>unless you’re sick,</sub></p><p><sub>tired,</sub></p><p><sub>lost in life’s disarray.</sub></p><p><sub>They don’t want me,</sub></p><p><sub>They want the healing.</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>And me?</sub></p><p><sub>I’ve given—</sub></p><p><sub>Head, shoulders, knees and toes.</sub></p><p><sub>Heart...</sub></p><p><sub>Soul...</sub></p><p><sub>Over and over I’ve patched myself together,</sub></p><p><sub>Just to watch them pick at the seams</sub></p><p><sub>Like it was their art form.</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>One. Piece. After. Another.</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>Ohh… I remember now.</sub></p><p><sub>The promises.</sub></p><p><sub>How could I forget the poetry in their lies?</sub></p><p><sub>The serenades of forever...</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>“I love you. Genuinely.”</sub></p><p><sub>“I swear on my father’s grave—I won’t leave.”</sub></p><p><sub>“I’ll walk you down the aisle. Make you mine.”</sub></p><p><sub>“The ends of the Earth? Just five steps if you’re with me.”</sub></p><p><sub>“I’d walk it. There and back. For you.”</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>Empty.</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>The promise?</sub></p><p><sub>That’s not love.</sub></p><p><sub>That’s not hope.</sub></p><p><sub>That’s a red flag in lipstick.</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>That’s a sign.</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>You’re courting the devil, darling.</sub></p><p><sub>And devils don’t do forever.</sub></p><p><sub>I knew the ending before the opening line </sub></p><p><sub>I knew it would end before it even began.</sub></p><p><sub>I just didn’t want to believe it.</sub></p><p><sub><br></sub></p><p><sub>Don’t play.</sub></p><p><br></p><p><sub><br></sub></p>
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133
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