It’s okay, I can wait. I can wait for you to finally say you’re not okay. I can wait until the bruises fade, the swelling around your eyes subside, and the colour of your cheeks shed their crimson specks. It’s okay.
I can wait for you to swallow the lump of pride lodged in your throat to be chucked up in the face of your tormentor. I can wait for the voices of denial to pitter-patter in the direction of oblivion. It’s okay.
I can wait until you allow the sun to spill onto your face again, until your eyes can reflect the shimmer of its rays, for you to smile a full set, minus your front two. It’s okay.
I can wait for you because every waking day I walk with you, jammed between your heart and your chest, waiting, just waiting for you to breathe life into me again. I can wait until you no longer wish to be a dead woman walking. It’s okay. I can wait.
© LaYinka Sanni, April 2013
Disclaimer: this is purely a work of fiction.