The King and His Men
Stole the Queen from her bed
And bound her in her bones
I’m on the verge of being in an affair with a married man.
I never thought I’d be in this situation, but I am.
Last night I dreamed Bakura’s mother was holding a contest to find a suitable wife for him.
I came in last because I can’t cook.
Another girl was picked but he eloped with me anyway.
Today I picked up the phone and called Bakura.
Today he told me that yesterday he did the introductions to be married.
He says there’s a lot of pressure on him to get married.
He says he barely knows her…………but
But her name is Aisha.
Aisha means she’s Hausa.
She’s a good girl. She’ll make an appropriate wife.
It’s all been arranged.
All he has to do is show up and get married and his family will be happy.
Two months ago he called and said he wanted to be with me.
Now I wish my name was Aisha too.
I’m gonna slit your throat
And then I’ll tie you to the bed
And then I’ll watch you choke
And when you hit the sack
I hope you think of me
Because I’m trying so damn hard
Just to let you breathe…..
I’ve cried already. For the first time ever he heard me cry. He was a bit surprised. I think inside he thinks I’m so numb that I don’t feel anything anymore. Usually I’m on autopilot but this is Bakura. My Bakura. My flawed, imperfect, beautiful Bakura.
I haven’t asked him why he doesn’t just say no. Bakura has eight brothers. He doesn’t have to get married, especially not if it’s an arranged marriage.
Maybe I’m just saying that because that’s the way it works out best for me. Maybe I’m selfish but he was fucking mine before bloody Aisha.
Is it wrong that I hate her already? She probably doesn’t know anything about me. Fuck, she doesn’t know anything about him; how the hell is she supposed to know about me? How the fuck do people agree to this shit?
Now I don’t know who I hate more, her for being Hausa, or myself for being Igbo. Or maybe I just hate him for not saying no.
I’m gonna jack my shit off, over it maybe
You were always on my mind
When your hand was down my fly
I’ve been afraid of turning twenty since I met Bakura. Twenty means it’s time to get married.
Bakura is Twenty-seven.
I am here.
He is there.
Fucking Aisha is there too.
Is it wrong that I wish she’d trip and fall and land on a rusty old spear or something?
Is it wrong that I wish she’d get her very own private Hurricane Katrina to blow her into the fucking sea?
Like you did inside me in your bed
And if I ever see you out with her
Just say goodbye
Because I’ll smash her pretty face up
And I’ll watch her die
I started running on Autopilot a long time ago. I’m permanently heartbroken.