HARD TO FIND

Every now and then I will stand naked, I mean with my H&M boxers, in front of the long broken mirror finding solace in the corner of our store room and stare at myself. I stare at the the way my shoulders hang. The way my chest gives way to a tommy anxious of ripping into packs. Maybe a pack of six.

I love what I see. My tights and legs proportional to my upper body makes me feel sane and almost perfect. Since no one is.

But sometimes I look beyond the image the broken mirror shows me. I want to see the inner me. The true me. Maybe he’s the only one best positioned to tell me what I want to hear.

I will cherish those moments. The ones we spend in bed eating Oreos with the one person you love to stare at. Not because you are in love with them but you just can’t stop looking at them.

I have played bits of my not so thrilling love life in my head during showers trying to map out the adventure of something I feel it’s taking a bit too much time to feel or have.

Then I reminisce people who have but don’t realize it.

People who will miss calls and refuse to return them.

Those who will turn down coffee dates and those who will refuse a walk in the park.

True Love is *Hard to find* When you find one keep it. Shelf it like a plaque from the Oscars. Clean it every now and then. And it will shine just for you.

My name is Ofori.

And I’m a seeker of the interpretation of love.