My lover is a good man, dare I say so myself.
His eyes glitter when he's genuinely happy,
How he likes to tickle me, just so he can hear me laugh deeply,
Sometimes making the neighbors hiss, I think.
My lover feeds me, with almost anything I'd like to eat,
He knows, you see, he knows how I am attracted to food,
Like how bees chase after nectar,
Or how Lagos men chase after fancy cars.
My lover provides that space between,
Where a good meal meets a happy heart and a content smile.
Where you stretch your legs as you suckle on the turkey bone,
That space where the last drop of ChiExotic nectar is the sweetest.
My lover is a kind human.
Finding that in-between space even on days when it's all closed up and tight like Lekki-Ajah road on a Monday evening.
He supports and holds me, gives me extra color like how fresh tomato makes the stew glow.
And on nights when my stomach rumbles with anxiety, there's enough love, and food, to satisfy me.