She rolled over and faced King, pulling the blanket closer around her feet. She ran her fingers through his beard. It took up half of his face and she liked the scruffy feel on her fingers.

King moved his face and kissed her open palm and she uttered to him…

When’s the last time you had sex, when’s the last time you got tested?

And the last time you had sex, did you have it while protected?

No one tells you about the after.

After the anger.

After the emotions.

After the apologies.

What happens when you’re faced with the possibility of returning to the pre-them time?

Before you dreamt of them?

Before you watched yourself in the mirror,

Uttering their last name with your first?


Opeyemi Ojo (OPME)

Opeyemi Ojo took a hiatus from poetry to focus on a newfound love for short stories. She soon returned to poetry, proving that you never forget your first.

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