I did not want to talk to her.
It was enough, this distance
Was a canvas on which I could
Her Beauty admire, enjoy my desire
In its state of perfection
But, oh!, I spoke to her. She broke
The mirror in which I admired the reflection
Of my perfect her.

Who is this shell
Talking to, touching, lying beside me?
Falling fast like a rock that
Was lifted too high for its own good.
The moon is beautiful
Only from afar.
Before you demystify her, stop
And take one last look at what you’re about to lose.

– CHE CHIDI CHUKWUMERIJE.