this year, my loneliness grows. you cannot imagine the thirst of roots i’m trapped with. at dawn, I call them dreams. at dusk, they become weeds. dry leaves of tragedy, piled in my soil. it becomes a little hard to bloom like i used to, yet I can’t unlearn my attraction to the irrigation of fantasies. it is a survival tool. it is what I tell my seeds. it is what I will whisper tomorrow — you will be loved. everything will be fine.
Eniola Ajao (she/they) is an emerging writer. They play chess and read romance novels when they are not working. You can find them on Instagram @the_cute_gemini.