FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART

                      Photo credit: wiki

Room 314,
Dark corners,
New haven state.

Dear Buchi,
       From the serene bottom of my heart, I write to you. The fluid of my pen is so steam and weak. I know you have missed me and had been longing to hear from me. I knew already, that my voice which went missing is starving you on daily basis. I know you feel cold and rejected now that I'm far from you, but my heart leaps in happiness whenever your lovely words slam my head.
      It's raining cat and dog over here for the past three days. I do come out from my room, to watch the rain drop on your bungalow roof. Watching it drop uncountably as I lean on the rails send slippery thrills down my spine. It sends me to that world we do visit when you were around. What word can described how happy I could've been if you were around? What is coldness if you're beside me, watching drops of rain at the dark corner? Do you remember that night at Dark corner? Yes, you do. The night was at its dead silence and the bliss gave way for the scornful cold to haunt my flesh. My hope was at the bank of a running river, helpless and hopeless. You took off your jacket and gently wrapped it on me.
The injury on your forehead could stand in defense for you, if you did deny me access to that protection, but you covered my head with your flowery cap and made me feel like a queen.
The cold became more aggressive as we walked into the dark corner, roofless and the walls- naked. My lips began to vibrate, so did my fingers and toes also.

"I will take you home" you said and I refused.

When it started raining, we had no option than to go home. Our umbrella was so small that it can't accommodate two. I was calm to know what will happen; perhaps you will send me out, I thought but you didn't. You pulled off your anklets and wrist watch and gently fit them on my writs. You walked into the rain just for me to be  comfortable and shielded. It began to beat heavily on you, but you walk proudly and majestically, smiling each time you look at my face. Your broad chest and muscularly body pushed me in. I dived into your memory; tears cascading down from eyes. You couldn't notice that and I was able to hide it out, because it's a happy cry of love. Your open milky teeth thrilled me, and your ebony skin drew a green garden in my brain. The whole moment entombed in my memory; it resurrects often, even after your heavy sojourn.
When we get to your house, I began to cry because I didn't wish to go home; I couldn't withstand a moment away from you.

"Take me to your house, Buchi. Take me home, Pleeeeease...My bones are weak....I will die of cold" my heart sang and you were right in my mind.

 I was amazed at your reaction. You could be master of physiognomy; you clearly understood the inscriptions on my face.
You could be psychologist; you aptly read my mind.
You could be a god; you explicitly knew my feelings and desire.
I found my self on your back, with the umbrella now big enough to three (you, I and we). What an imagery, Buchi? Your wet body warmed my spirit. I began to feel the escasty immediately we entered your sparsely decorated room. You were mannered enough and couldn't force me in. Getting to the bar, I filled two glasses of gin. I watched as you gulped it in at once and went for another one. It must have rolled down, may be through the oesophagus and down to the testicles.
I could be right Buchi,  because you groaned like an athlete who had been injected with horse power. You stared passionately at my breast, as if it is that of Venus- the goddess of love or perhaps olokun, the Yoruba goddess of beauty and wealth.
 I became afraid; you could descend on me without my assent, even though I would be happy, but you were calm and mannered. You pulled off your wet shirt and jeans. You looked like Athene  Hercules on your pants. Your lovely pique made me to hand you a glass of water. You have waited for long, I knew that already.
Your Adam apple swung up and down as the water gently sailed down, through your pipes, but I couldn't tell if it took the same direction with the gin.  I wished I could be the water. How happy I would be if I had sailed down gently into your system, through your oesophagus. I would stop at each joint of your system to boast that I'm so special to Buchi.
Seating on the bed, you didn't want to play role of a maker. You're a king; perhaps a proud god.
The cold must have gotten reinforcements and I don't need any handwriting on the wall to know that I have only one option to survive. I ran to you and plugged my lips into yours, the same way I did at the dark Dark corner. You lifted me up to the waist height, and later would i realize that my pants flew omnidirectional in the air and yours no where to be found within the spot.
The cold was too much, I felt like dying but you battled terror for me.
My eyes never left my enlarged pictures hanging on your walls.
You thrust in and out but I was still my self; still much far from the world I desired to be in.
We arrived at the gate when your palms touched the Nipple and my finger went down to testes. I began to cry when you made the alliance, a triple entete but that's was my desire. It lasted longer than the first one. We won together.

We have been together for six years. You gave me life, you gave me joy.
You sent me to school Buchi, for me to have a better life. I still wear this ring hoping that one day we shall meet again but my hope didn't come through.
I'm at the Dark corner now Buchi, come....

To be continue

Editor: OZOKO JOY
University of Nigeria, Nsukka.

(Do you think may be Buchi died after engaging her? Or got missing?)

 Excerpt from First draft of my unpublished script: A letter to the heavy Land.

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