Before the sun rises
The sound of bound paper striking the door
Summons me to start a fire
To procrastinate retrieving what has been delivered
Least I risk meeting you
And recall how
If you were to churn brown sugar
Over a gas stove
While inhaling the rich, smokey molasses
Take a moment to turn
And open the kitchen window
Before the room fills with smoke
Once you turn back
You’ll see the color of those
Spiked
Yet graceful eyelashes
Gently and partially eclipsing your view
Whenever you glanced below
Turn towards me
Eyes, observant of the discomforted minds of strangers
Directing a hand to a friend’s shoulder
Positioned in front of the most inquisitive mind
With a voice to dance with mine in
A merry waltz
Or regretful lament for time
Are we strangers now?
I think we ought to be
A look not with malice
Nor disdain
Just cruel amusement
It throws my stomach to my feet
I once gave thanks I was out on
The right day
And right time
To meet you
Turn towards me again
Before I lose this wish to embrace
Or dreams of walking through life
Hand in hand
Respond
While I’m still yearning to see your face
And call your name
Before the tears dry from my face
And while I’m still tempted to enrobe my walls with the scent of molasses
Just to envision those eyes again
Are we strangers now?
I think we ought to be
I used to think of you to escape from sad or boring realities
How could I humiliate myself like this?
I suspect I wouldn’t have missed much
Had I gone somewhere else that day
Or at least withheld my confession
When you feigned uncertainty
And called us friends
I should have known
We’d return to being unknown to each other
I don’t know what I’ve learned from you yet
To make this worthwhile
The swelling that once overtook my heart
Fades with each season
There’s a discomforting numbness
Before the regular rhythm resumes
Yet I can’t rejoice this newfound wellness
Till my mind reminds me
We were never what I once foresaw
Adedoyin Adebayo ’26 (aadebayo@harvardindependent.com) writes Arts for the Independent.