Matter Is Anything That Has Weight

which is to say:
             before a thing blossoms
 
             into a durable memory
             it must've traveled deep inside a body
 
             and occupied an essential space
             in its center
 
                           when we lose a thing
                           closed to the heart   
 
             we collapsed    
             when you slipped out of my hand  
 
             i became a roadside flower
             always drenched in dust
 
             and regrets and ache and tears
             i became a boy slowly corroded by grief
     
             i became a wall that's come in touch with a bomb     

BIO: 

Ayouba Toure writes from Paynesville, Liberia. He studies civil engineering student at University of Liberia, and has work published (or forthcoming) on Afritondo, Praxis Magazine, Olongo Africa and elsewhere. He tweets @abuoyaeruot