My Last Bad Man
Learning to see a relationship without rose-colored glasses
Published in
4 min readMay 18, 2019
The beginning
He danced with me on an empty, pin-drop quiet street in Lagos into the small hours of the morning, moving me through yellow-dim lighting with his breath against my ear, hand below my waist. I miss being spun by him. He understood, intimately, the poetry with which I want to move through…
