Honey & Spice

by Bolu Babalola

asocial,

agbaya

Romance was a waste of time, a form of manipulation utilized by boys who didn’t wash their bedsheets regularly. It existed, sure, but I wasn’t surrounded by anyone I believed engaged in it properly, with respect for the object of affection, rather than a thirst to claim—a triumph of acquisition, rather than a triumph of winning affection.

“I don’t want to give myself to someone who doesn’t know what to do with me. I . . . don’t want to lose myself.”

“‘Moon spice representing their ferocious passion, a terracotta hue bright enough to favor his love’s eyes. Honey for their friendship, the sweetness of two spirits twined, the comfort of their knowledge of each other, happiness. The two balanced each other. Shangaya wept for Niyo’s broken wing, at what he’d sacrificed for her, and he said,

‘bacchanal’