Yes, You. Yup.

Your smile is irresistible. Your charm incapable of another. If you were a constable, I would break no rules. But because your just a brother, yours are made to be broken. I appreciate your presence, it’s like a token of your gravity. Your chastity is sacred. Your purity admirable. Your wit amiable. And I couldn’t stay away from you even if I wanted.

I am haunted by your graceful touch, always making me lurch towards your motion. While your silence is peaceful, your emotions run deep. I like that because sometimes, I see through your eyes. It’s a place free of lies. It’s where I want to hide when I am weak. It’s where I am understood, even when I can’t speak. And I would be in full swing, even when I didn’t realize it.

You’re a surprise as beautiful as the sunrise. So each day I rise to the occasion of seeing you, being with you and simply, feeling you. Your words inspire many. I aspire to be just like you, a leader. I don’t need a fortune reader to know that your hands were made to fit in mine. Because like a treasure hunt, you found me. And even if you didn’t know it, I would still be your ideal diamond. Yes, me. Yup.

War, Heart, Art.

It’s a wall built so strong and high around her existence, to protect her from you, and all the hurtful things you did. She keeps home, and away from you; because it’s a battle. When she loses she’s the wounded soldier who fell in the dirty puddle of love’s water. When she wins, she’s the little miss perfect, you say. Her rounds of ammunition were not enough because she wound up battered. The crowds of spectators didn’t matter. The more they cheered on, the more she continued to bleed. In bloody love. If you were graceful, you would surrender. For she is under duress, stress and anything you would think of, other than your so-called, love spell.

 

Stainless, still.

Her lips are stainless. So if you want her mark, don’t kiss her. You’re clueless. That’s because you read her like the back of a book– insufficient. If you take fright, she will take flight. If you take it lightly, she will fight. If you are serious, stain her heart with your signature. And like a lithium stain, she will stay. For its her nature to be stainless but not still.

Some room for her please.

He doesn’t love me back, so why do I still love him? He turns his back on me; when I try to do the same to him, it kills me. With wickedness he smiles at me but I still lie next to him in steadfastness. It’s almost like he loves to see me suffer. Close to insanity yet distant from it, I am a hustler for his love. He is undeniably a cheating man. He’s meeting me and on his brown shirt, is pink lipstick splashed all over. It’s sick how he’s too blind to see that I am the better lover. For when I kiss him, I am not bitter but I do it in kind never missing his lips or anywhere else he asks me to. And it’s never on his shirt.

He doesn’t want me back, so why do I return to him? He had prior warned that if I wanted to leave, I should take the dog with me. Little does he know that I am in dire need for him, my only dog and sire. So after dumping cold turkey and Rex, brittle and frail– I returned home. He was alone and seemingly happy. I was cold and lonely but he only selfishly asked about the dog, nothing about me. As he rolled up on the right side of the bed, joining him I enrolled back into the ongoing war inside my heart. It hurt, so cried a fresh. It actually felt nice. I am used to tears.  They wash away my fears, but never his lies and my blind ties to him. They said that in the greatest loss there still lies some gain. But I, have nothing if he can’t feel my pain.

He doesn’t call me back, so why do I even write him letters and poems? He will never reply. He will always be the player who lost. In the game where he tossed my heart up high and then kicked it down the gutter. We are like clutter, unnecessary. It’s still a mystery that we are still together, or so it seems. This isn’t like chemistry, it’s like nothing at all. In fact it’s nothing. I now realize that we are nothing. He wakes up teary-eyed and says he had a dream. In it he heard a voice asking him to make me some room. For sleep, peace or comfort, he didn’t quite get that part. And he is not making any effort to. I slept well and I feel at peace. In my dream I also heard a voice that told me to leave, and never look back.

Love & Shoes

Sometimes we are like shoes, downright dirty. Our fights stink and are washed out. You are right and I am always wrong. When I am out like a cigarette, you miss me. We break up then make up. But it’s all a charade, because like shoes we are worn out but still going strong. So we stay up all night long, playing pillows and eating marshmallows. Good times. I would walk for miles in search, but there’s no need. No one else makes me smile like you do.

Sometimes we are like shoes, high. Our satisfaction dangerously leaves us falling, in love. Catching me is your forte and it’s a fact that a fraction of me, is always in control of the situation. We have no limit to how far we can walk, because like shoes we were made to trek, though this love. So we play tricks throughout the relationship. Oh the thrills. You are the anchor to my ship.

Sometimes we are like shoes, inseparable and entangled. Like a shoelace, you embrace me tight, and leave me restless for more, of you. You are a neat man, so I tuck my arms around your sweater. ‘Later!’, we tell them. We are the envy of many. They want to buy us, into their thoughts. But they can’t afford us for our levy is too high and mysterious. Like shoes we clean up very nicely, and then look brand new. Your niceties are like dew, ever fresh. Oh fellow shoe i wrote this verse for you, because you are the hues to my canvas.

Proper nice.

Girl that’s what you are, tight. Your thighs tell it all. It’s how you move not swiftly but gracefully. See it’s how you smile, not just sweetly but angelically. See, I believe in you and everything you do. It’s how you live freely, how you love deeply, how you laugh silly, how you grab me lately, I adore you. I want to open doors for you, anything you love I will do. On the floor you will be my lady. And when the music stops, you will still be mine.

Girl, you are a keeper. I am a leaper and a believer of your love. You are special. And If I have you, I don’t have to think of anything at all but bliss. Your kiss is lethal, making our bond stronger than metal. Missing you makes me go mental, I can’t get rid of you. You lead the way and I follow. Though you sometimes sway, you are always true. It’s what I dig about you. In the desert you will be my sand. And when the storm washes it all away, you will still be mine.

You are a sexy girl. Lately I can’t stop staring at your confidence. Evidence is in how you carry yourself, you never need to defend yourself. Even when you are wrong, you seem right. You make me enjoy light moments when you play with my heart. It’s a joy to see you lay beside me every day. You are the best thing about today. That’s because you shine brighter than the sun, you rock harder than the stone, and when the world ends, you will be my investment. For when they will think I am wasted and nothing, I will still have you proper nice.

Of his colour, music & paint …

I am in love with an artist. He is colour before my eyes. In front of his, I am fallen manna. I am a gift that sits pretty. I am the muse that lifts his spirits. He is needy of a piece of art- me; so yes, I am amused. He is never petty but keen on me- his inspiration. See I feel at peace when he stares into my eyes in adoration. It’s as if I am naked in a garden of exploration. Not of Eden but of a lake of plenty. Not water but of hefty love.

I am in love with an artist. He is music to my ears. And to his, I am the intrinsic song that never ends. As I play his well written notes, he finds joy in my deep well of hidden lyrics. See, he is seasoned in his field, I can tell by the sound of his melody, soothing. It’s as if I am bound by his entirety, cooling. In reality it feels like a beautiful rhapsody that only he can mould and uphold.

I am in love with an artist. To me, he is a painter. To him, I am the canvas. On some nights he puts the brush down and recites me a verse. His might- lies in colours so he uses them sparingly, no rush. They are not made of oil but love, sometimes I blush.  Oh … He is patient, so whatever time he never gives hurriedly. I am his precondition so I never leave undoubtedly. We are some kind of addition to art. Inside my heart it feels like we are an ocean connected by emotions. Silent, peaceful and deep.

She is a WRITER …

She is not just a writer but a fighter. She will put down her tools of trade to protect you. On your birthday she will walk around town just to get you that gift. On a bad day she will be the one to lift your spirits up. When you’ve had a good day, you will want to share with her. That’s because she is a rare kind of ear. She listens with her heart. Then she writes with an art christen by a certain grace.

She is not just a writer but a fighter. She will be next to you even when you are a dog. That’s because besides the ‘mess’, God knows that she still sees the man inside you. Like a beautiful prose she will serve you delicacies at home. Unlike a lone lover she will have various specialties for you. Take for example, she is like a poem. Ready to give you little measures of her goodness set to leave you breathless.

She is not just a writer but a fighter. She will read you like a good book, cook you good food, $#@! you real good, fix your hood, tuck you in bed, all that and still keep her cool. See she is like a good storyline, she keeps building up on her profile. The plot will get thicker if you will underline the most important phrases. She is not a phase or a face for that matter so watch the thin line. She is the writer and you are the library. Let her stock the books!

Leave & I will feel ..

I am declaring a state of emergency because I don’t love you anymore. The more I try to keep up with you, the more you keep stressing me. If I can’t have you leave, believe me I will be the one to go. My bags are packed already, my hands are tied up, my house is untidy but I am still ready to start over.

I am demanding for a memorandum of understanding because you never listen instead you keep with your cunning maneuvers. I am sick of mornings of your hangovers, I stick to my mourning as if I already lost you while you were with me. You are not the man I knew, it’s as if you are a ghost.

I am confirming if we have any other business because in all seriousness I don’t ever wanna hear from you. You will probably drink a beer tonight but after the high make sure you don’t call me. I heard enough of your lies and at this juncture nothing you can do will stop me from pursuing my future.

I am regretting the nuptials. I will keep the initials, wish I knew then what I was getting into. You can keep the house, I would love to live in a setting that reminds me of when we used to be ”us” so am going to reside at the old town where we first met. It’s where I don’t get agitated, it’s located inside of me so just leave & I will feel again.

This girl:

Like a gypsy, she has me under her spell. I smell her sweet perfume everywhere I go. I love her playful demeanor that I would personally exhume if she buried it, can never forgo. Before she leaves for work, she hurriedly must kiss me, I love how she quickly tucks her pretty hands behind my back, always messing with me. I love that she never gets petty when we disagree, she acts like her university degree … I think if she were a breed she would be a high pedigree.

Like ink, she is the constant of my life’s biro, for instance I roll with her at all times. When I can’t write, she is always right by my side inspiring me and in an instant it all starts to flow. I am constantly aspiring to be like her, always hopeful and cheerful. When things go wrong, she is purposely going on about how I have to remain optimistic. She is like a mystery, a never-dying river, leaving me in dire will to demystify her.

Like a good book, I can’t put her down. When I do, I lay her on the bed for nothing but good loving. It’s like having to read over a good story, it’s always worth it. When am hurting, she is always trying to take the pain away, every time I get distracted and sway, I remember when I was hunting for a good girl, I never knew that she would have to come with the full package to turn the fool in me into a love trackage.

Like a train, she demands compulsory stopovers. She loves it smooth and I made a cool discovery that being with her is not mandatory but it’s a luxury she granted me. I am trained to love her because she is trustworthy, it drives me insane how motherly she gets in spite of the simplicity she intends. She tends to me diligently with no trickery so when they ask me why I wanna put a ring on her finger, it’s because I fancy her consistency, humility, nobility, dignity and our compatibility that nothing can hinder.

Dude, I am under her spell!