There was a time when we used to walk the streets together. Hand in hand I held you like my purse. Side by side like a holster. Babe, oh, those times when we was together. Lovers. I used to cling to you like a sticker. The ones we walk past on the street lamps of Kampala, Uganda.
Now I see you on the city streets walking with another girl. On the pavements we treaded. I feel like calling out your name but I am afraid to disrupt your romantic stroll.
You & her, hand in hand, like how you used to hold mine now you hold hers while retracing our lanes like we used to, me & you. Now it’s you & her. And I remember the shops we used to go to. The restaurants we ate & dined from. Are you taking her there now? Seating her in the chair I used to? The corner I liked? The same table jokes? Fuck this small city & the familiar streets. Its habits and its traits.
I wanted to call out your name but at that moment, the traffic lights turned green as I saw my lover turning a corner with another woman.
Random Thoughts of Shadray 
The places are too small, too familiar to let you move one. It’s too small a world to let anyone move one so easily. Great piece Shadray.
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Indeed. A small city can kill you emotionally when things go south. Thank you for reading.
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It’s one of the most gut-wrenching heartaches of all, and one that takes the longest to move beyond. When you do, in time you come to realize why it had to happen. Because there’s someone way, way better for you out there in the future, just waiting to enter your life at the right time 🙂
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… And love you just how you deserve. 🥰
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