The girl was lighter without her heart. She danced barefoot on the hot roads, and her feet were not cut by the glass or stones that studded her way. She spoke to the dead whenever they visited her. She tried to be kind, but they realised that they no longer had anything in common with her, and she realised it, too. So they went their separate ways.
Helen OyeyemiThere were days when he touched the tip of her nose and it was enough, a miracle of plenty.
Helen OyeyemiWanderer, there is no road, the road is made by walking. The poem tells me itโs no big deal that Iโm not like Snow. I can be another thing; Iโm meant to be another thing.
Helen Oyeyemi