The Story of Awele

Awele came into my life
while both of us were still packing boxes
from places our hearts had already moved out of.

Marriages becoming memories.
Promises becoming paperwork.
Two people standing at separate exits,
somehow finding each other
before either of us knew where we were going.

Timing has always had expensive taste.

It’ll put something priceless in your hands
when you’re too distracted
to know what you’re holding.

That was Awele.

See, she was fine.

Not the type of fine
that needed a room to agree.

But her beauty was the easy part.

Her mind made you stay.

Conversation had somewhere to go with her.

She could challenge me
without trying to compete with me.
Correct me without cutting me.
Pour into me
without making me feel empty first.

There were days
I couldn’t find the best version of myself.

She’d point him out.

“There he is.”

And somehow,
I believed her.

That’s what I miss.

Not just the woman.

The way I was a little more of myself
when she was around.

Awele had a heart
you don’t find twice
without wondering
if you were supposed to take better care
of the first one.

And I didn’t.

I fumbled.

No clever metaphor there.

Some truths don’t need poetry
to make them hurt.

I had a queen in my presence
and treated time
like it owed me more of her.

Thought there’d be another conversation.

Another night.

Another chance to say
what pride kept editing.

Another opportunity
to show her what I felt
instead of assuming she knew.

Funny how we study people
once they become memories.

Now I remember details.

The way she carried herself.

The intelligence behind her eyes.

The softness that never made her weak.

Her style.

Her patience.

That little something in her spirit
I still can’t put language around.

Maybe that’s why I’m writing.

Trying to give words
to something I should’ve given effort.

See, losing Awele
didn’t teach me that she was perfect.

She wasn’t.

Neither was I.

It taught me that perfect for you
and perfect
are two completely different things.

She fit places in me
I didn’t know were empty.

Now those spaces know her name.

Awele.

There’s irony in missing someone
you had every opportunity to hold closer.

I can admit that now.

I was busy ending one life,
trying to build another,
carrying yesterday on my back
while tomorrow was sitting right in front of me.

She deserved a version of me
that wasn’t divided.

I wish I’d met her
when my hands weren’t full
of things I was supposed to put down.

Then again,

maybe meeting her wasn’t the mistake.

Maybe not recognizing the moment was.

Maybe some people arrive
before you’re ready
just to show you
what ready should feel like.

Still…

I’d be lying
if I said I’ve made peace with her absence.

I want her back.

Not to repeat what we had.

I want the introduction again.

Same woman.

Different man.

No speeches.
No promises dressed better than actions.

Just me,
knowing what I know now,
standing in front of the woman
I once had beside me.

Awele,

if our paths ever cross again,
I won’t ask time to apologize.

I’ll just pay attention.

This time
when life places something priceless
in my hands,

I’ll know better
than to loosen my grip.