Posted By Afro-Awesome Guest contributor
On May 22, 2015
By Anonymous
I make wishes on shooting stars when the clock hits 11:11. Not that I have any faith in these wishes coming true.
Nevertheless morning came as it did every day, whether I could see the sun or not.
You walk into the office beaming as you’ve just hung up after speaking to him. He wanted to love you but you were afraid. I needed to love you but you were never mine to Love.
As you stand in the doorway biting the skin off your lip, so much was said between my ‘hi’ and your ‘hello’. We look at each other a little too long to be ‘just friends’. But we’ve been through this before, my most dreaded déjà vu.
Our relationship never could be explained; for the most part it stopped and started at ‘oh this is my colleague’. But all I knew was whenever I was with you the same melody repeated in my head. It is already “our song” even though you’ve never heard it.
You’re my romantic repertoire, my special rendezvous…my favourite everything. He calls again. My heart breaks as you say ‘sure I’m free Friday at 20:00.’
I tell myself it’s time to move on.
Next morning.
The clock hits 11:11 and always the same wish.
For more on having to keep that secret check out the piece conditions of service and on loving someone who is not yours read this piece on being Gay and Ghanian.
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