Out of (Re)bounds

Basketball references aside, we all hate that realisation that it was a lie,
That it was simply the infusion of a pipe dream, illusion, and emotional profusion, sigh…
In the end we all want to feel like the perfect pick-me-up for the down, but keeping it up seems an expectation too high.

From the onset we should resort to caution, you’re fresh out of a romantic arrangement, I’m inclined to deny,
Yet here we are, cavorting and courting, to the wind we throw caution, testing fate we roll the die,
And for each gamble we smile, for each kiss and stolen caress we believe US is nigh,
Yet in truth, you are ignoring the voices in your mind, as they chip away at your pipe dream, as their crescendo becomes a scream inside,
And I, remain lost in your enchanting conversation, mesmerised by your hazel eyes, ignoramus before the truths they hide.

With time, the ostensibly proactive interlocutor you were, becomes the non-executor I would never have preferred,
I’m stuck pushing the cart, crying at heart but looking unhurt, hoping my pain can be inferred,
You would, once upon a time, reach for my cheek with your lips, let me know the peace to your mind I conferred,
But now even my Gallic romance seems seedy, even subtle strokes of your face make you ornery and perturbed.

The END is what this could very well be, the inducement looking a lot like me,
Made out to seem like I am groping when caressing is what you need,
I’m the bad guy indeed, aren’t I?
No, in fact I am anything but so,
Wry is the humour with which I make that known,
When we both seemed engaged and engrossed,
You were simply having another’s name on your heart even more deeply embossed,
And while the moments felt blissful and perfect, I was simply outsourced.

It is time I end this need of you; any true need is worth the cost,
I am out of rebounds, and with my mouth full of fouls, I shall march off the court.

Once yours in serendipity,

Evans Mbora Campbell.

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