17/05/2026
31 May.
That date is carved into me now.
It was supposed to be music and white lace and you, Chisom, glowing.
I picked out my outfit, imagined the photos, saved a seat in my heart for the joy of that day.
We spoke, and you were real. Solid. Chisom.
The next day, gone.
No goodbye. No warning. Just an empty space where your laughter should be.
I keep reaching for my phone to tell you this is a mistake.
Tell me where you went, Chisom. Tell me itās not true.
Because I canāt accept a world that lets me buy clothes for your wedding and a coffin in the same month.
Why are we on earth if love like yours can vanish overnight?
I donāt know anymore.
All I know is that 31 May will come, and the clothes will stay in the closet,
and a part of me will be buried with the day we never got to see.
Iām broken š