by Yaya Akolo
Today, I am breaking up with myself
With myself of the past
The one who yelled at her mom Upon finding entries of guys she found “cute” on the train that morning Who were actually making fun of her.
The one who hugged someone beautiful Despite his blatant stoicism And joked on the bus home to cover her emotions.
The one who stood by the elevator And wished on the shooting stars that night On the synthetic terrain All surroundings completely black.
The one that he couldn’t talk to anymore Because she let on And it was too late.
The one who couldn’t talk to him Despite his intense detachment Even though she hoped, and wished, and dreamed.
Today, I am breaking up with her.