The Poem

The Poem

When I unfolded the paper, I gave them the theme of the poem, which was "SORRY." Then I continued with the recitation.

"Sorry,

Do you know that I have been wondering?

Yes, I have been wondering what my world would be like

If I didn't have you in it.

Now, it has become a reality that you,

Yes, you—my beloved Cynthia—might be mad at me.

Come on, Cynthia, you don’t have to be mad at Damian.

You know I would never do anything, willingly or unwillingly,

That might hurt you.

You see, baby,

I am looking forward to the future,

Hoping you’ll be with me forever.

Growing old together, as happy as couples can be.

I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.

I might not have truly committed those offenses intentionally,

But what else can I do but say sorry?

Yes, I am sorry, and I can’t be sorry enough.

And I’m sorry for being selfish.

I love you completely, with all of my heart.

And I will love you forever—

Till death do us part... if you will permit it."

After I finished reciting the poem, the whole group started making puppy faces, and Cynthia blushed so much that it looked like she was glowing. Chinwe turned to Cynthia, her lips curled into a teasing smirk.

"Now, if you know what’s good for you, you better forgive him before I snatch this beautiful poet from you!"

"Hahaha! You don’t even know who I caught today, shamelessly flirting with him and embarrassing herself all over him!" Charity said, her voice full of mockery.

"Who?" Chinwe asked, raising an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued.

Right now, my dear Cynthia was completely dumbfounded. She just kept staring at me, her eyes wide with amazement, as if she couldn’t believe the words that had just left my mouth.

"It was that slutty Beatrice," Charity announced dramatically. "The people there said she was basically trying to rape him in class!"

A wave of laughter erupted from the group. Even I had to chuckle at how ridiculous that sounded.

Cynthia finally spoke, her voice soft but firm.

"Baby, I was never mad at you. I was just being careful. You know you haven’t done anything to me, so stop beating yourself up, baby."

Hearing those words made my chest tighten in relief. Cynthia had never doubted me. I should have known.

"Okay, next one!" Charity clapped excitedly.

"Evil girl," I muttered under my breath before unfolding the second piece of paper.

The title of this one was "Be My Girl Forever."

Clearing my throat, I began to read:

"I might not be the kind of boy that every girl would call a perfect boyfriend.

I might not have everything,

And I might not be able to make you smile every time.

I am just me—Damian.

Yes, the gold-headed Damian.

But from the day I met you, baby girl,

I have never stopped thinking about you.

Please, baby, be my girl forever,

And make my joy complete.

I have never felt this happy around any other girl.

Whenever I see you smile, or walk, or even hear that melodious voice of yours,

There is always this happiness inside me.

I might not be much,

But believe me when I say,

I adore you more than anyone.

I love you even more than I love myself.

Please, Cynthia... just be my girl forever."

As soon as I finished, the whole group melted into a puddle of blushes. Cynthia, at that moment, started tearing up. She gave me that same look—the same one she gave me when we kissed.

Damn.

I had written these poems for her, to recite them in a private, intimate setting where it would be just the two of us. Who knows? I might have been lucky enough to steal another kiss. But now, here we were, with an audience.

"Fuck me, Africa!" Chinwe gasped, shaking her head in disbelief. "What part of hell are you from, please? Where do you get all this inspiration from?"

Cynthia looked like she had been hypnotized, completely lost in my words.

Charity let out a deep sigh. "Well, this one is beautiful, but there’s another one, right? That one is even better!"

"Come on, my love," Cynthia said in the softest, calmest voice I had ever heard. It was almost as if she was experiencing a wordgasm. "Don’t hold anything back. Can’t you see that I love you even more? Please, keep going. Don’t stop."

Her words made my heart race.

I opened the third and final piece of paper, unfolded it, and took a deep breath.

"The title of this one is 'Light of Love.'"

As soon as I announced the title, Charity jumped up like a child who had just received candy.

"Aha! This is the one I was talking about!" she exclaimed.

The group giggled, but I ignored them and continued:

"You alone, I love.

Oh, my beloved,

You alone are my lady love,

And I would do anything to prove it.

I will wrap you in love,

Like a globe, or a glove.

For you, I know no self-love.

Even the universe can approve of this.

Feelings for another,

I have thrown into the deep sea.

Barriers and borders between us,

I shall remove.

On my scale of preference,

Your happiness comes above all else.

No matter how stormy the sea of trouble becomes,

My love for you will never waver.

This is because we must dance to the tune,

Of Light of Love."

"Come here, baby."

Cynthia’s voice was shaky, emotional. She stretched her arms toward me, silently asking for a hug.

I didn’t hesitate. I rushed into her embrace, pulling her close as she snuggled into my chest. I could feel her warmth, her love, her heartbeat against mine.

"Awww! I’m joining this hug!" Charity declared and jumped in, squeezing between us.

"I feel like crying! I need to be loved too, Joor! What kind of intimidation is this?" Chinwe whined as she threw herself into the hug as well.

The four of us stood there, locked in an unbreakable embrace, until—

"Hey! What the heck is going on here?"

A loud, teasing voice interrupted us.

We untangled ourselves and turned to see a girl standing there, hands on her hips, looking at me with an amused expression.

"If you people are planning some kind of foursome sex party, please get a room. Don't just stand outside here, making someone's day miserable for no reason!" she said, dramatically rolling her eyes.

The group burst into laughter again, unable to contain themselves.

"I’m here to call Damian—our very own merman. The Yellow House master wishes to see him."

She delivered her message with a smirk.

"Okay, okay, he heard you," Charity waved her off. "He’ll meet you soon. We were in the middle of something."

"Ah, abeg! I’m not going anywhere!" the girl protested. "Whatever you guys are doing, I must partake in it! There's nothing like that!"

Her dramatic reaction sent us into another fit of laughter, the sound of our joy filling the air.