THE REASON BEHIND THE SEASON’S END

It was a beautiful journey
A beautiful journey filled with many memories as sweet as honey
But it has come tumbling down like a chaotic bursted ball
…at your character flaw
And though I feel the pain of the claw
I don’t even feel like crying

II
For you told me in words and in deed
That your waistline banana needs a public feed
Oh you told me through manipulation and in mock-calm
That you feared my being can crash you in my palm
…if I so caught you in your little engagements
Even your lies wore clothes of truthful derangements
…but my own desires fed through it on your youth

III
And then I saw the traits satanic
From your little rushed through calls to your horrid panic
Then I saw your search histories
From your hidden silly searches to your thought-victories
Oh I saw your hiding mysteries
…creeping around in the selling industries
Your snake sneaking like a black mamba under my visible green grasses
…still I held on

IV
For I told myself the lies that no concrete evidence had walked into my view
And so I nearly cuffed myself to you
Until that message which came looking for me
…through a pop up
I so wanted to hold on
…till that message which clearly stated prices like a shut up
Concretizing things my illusions decided not to see
Calling unknown smile-sellers “cutie”
…like you called me
Asking for their prices like a buyer on duty
And having the effrontery to tell me you were on an investigative duty
How humiliating!

V.
So you saw me as your fanciful carpet
To be laid and played on
…as you wore your whoring jacket?
Ha!
So you saw me as your prideful mask
To help you communitize your middle-gun as you in my swimming-class bask?
Ha!
Oh you saw me as your foolish she-goat
To walk you through a river like a willing-to-crash-boat?
Oh!
Hm, another oh!

VI
Now these eyes are clear
And the mind has accepted
That even foolishness has an expiry date
There’s no fear
My fate has been accepted
That these emotional tantrums will fade
…even under this painful shade
For I will not be that bed treated as a public share
Pissed on by a roaming pinner
…as its fancy dinner
I’m definitely not a queer

VII
So you can cry till you dry
I won’t look the other way
…even if your tears flood my floor
And your eyes push a sore
There is nothing so embarrassing
…like sleeping with a creeping philanderer
…under a love-mantra
So I won’t for a moment try to get to the alter
What will I be looking for, to shatter?
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © October 4, 2026.