(Told by the voice in his head) Lanre wakes before the sun again. He thinks it’s discipline. I know it’s dread. The room is still dark, except for...Read more

The words I cannot shape out loud, The ache that lingers, thick as cloud, The love that pulses, soft and bare Too much to hold and too sharp to shar...Read more

People like to draw clean lines; chalk on pavement. You’re either white or shadow, holy or held, a closed door or one swinging wide open. But I live...Read more