Answer here

But then again that’s not ME. That’s not US. ‘Us’ is made up of all these crazy things we do and say. The tears, frowns, laughter and joy, I’m talking about the dance moves (out of this world): when we are crazy together, being totally RANDOM. Oh! And the jokes (my jokes) that are so dry yet you LAUGH even if you ask later “What was the joke about?”

You’re delightfully crazy and so in love, I’m amazingly crazy and in love myself.

I mean, there are only a few times that life caries two different people on the same scale, as if they were attached to each other. Oh well, yes we are. But it doesn’t matter, honey. It doesn’t. As long as you know that I am ME and I know that you are YOU. It’s FINE.

Oh! I’m just thinking about the times when we just lie on our backs and dream about US in the future as if we were trying to write a love story or something. I like the way you just “don’t care about who says WHAT and what happens NEXT”.

You are always positive about our relationship more than I am. You are the strength of this relationship, and WOW, that’s amazing and I love IT. I love the fact that you…You…you just make IT happen.

Tendai Titi-Lee Mwanyisa, you are an amazing guy. You are smart, HANDSOME, can be totally childish (I love that…when that little boy comes out, it’s fun). You accommodate me in every way. You try to put my needs (and demands=) first (99% of the time).

To top it all, you love GOD. I LOVE you for that. I love the way you love your MOM, that’s HOTTT and… so WARM.

Dude, I feel happy, NOT only because you make me feel that way but because I can be ME…totally…when am around you. Now, that’s just HOTTT.

Oh ! Man…All the crazy things that we do when we are together…dude…the randomness…it’s CRAZY but I love IT! I like the fact that we are not FORMAL and ROUTINISED, and …and…WATEVA !

I guess I could write a book about US. I could just write about our differences and similarities.

I could even write about the FACT that we have the same lines on our PALMS, like ONE could swear that your PARENTS made a COPY of my HANDS when they made you…GOD’s creation is AWSOME.

I’m laughing right now; thinking about your laziness when it comes to my HOBBIES, sometimes (most of the time) like WRTITTING; poetry; DANCING and STUFF , even though you don’t DO: you support …and watch my performances…and yes make comments… add/take out one or two lines that aren’t MHHHH .

Ja…okay…anyway…I mean you are there, all the way although the best you can do is write two lines or so…BUT you once (twice) tried…that was cute. I still have those LOVE LETTERS. Totally cute!

In conclusion (=), we fight BUT we never go to SLEEP without sorting things OUT (anymore)…that…that…that is just BEAUTIFUL about us. SO yeah man! I know this is a MOUTHFULL note but given an ‘extra page’ I would write even more. I want US to look back on this day (and the other days),
Whether we are together or NOT and say…’DAMN, I LOVED! ‘

THe Pic: Something from the internet (lol)

In the mist of my heart

So they wrote on my wall,

That I am tall, skinny and pale

That my knees wobble when I walk

And that maybe I need to gain one kilo or two.

They criticised and called me names

They singled me out from the rest

And painted my name with a sin

I find myself with no shame

I forgive but I register it all in my heart.

the tears on her face

Dear my once called love. I write this letter in anger. I am bitter about the decision my brutal heart has taken. I am weeping but you wouldn’t see the teardrops, only the damaged paper will be my witness. I feel there is no need, or a point for us to continue with our love or rather say ‘arrangement’. I enjoyed the times and plays we did. Together, inside and outside the room. I am heartbroken, yet, I feel the need to part ways. With you. My Love. I fear for you though. Because I know that without me you are more or less nothing. You need me, that I do understand. But I can’t be with you. Not anymore. Did I ever love you? That is the question you asked this morning. I couldn’t answer. But now I can. Now I can tell you that I loved each and every day. I loved you with every breath I took. I loved you until I couldn’t love you anymore. And now I love you. Not. My Love.

Madame Writer

I’m a broken idol with no words. I write for sinners and the so-called saints. I hustle letters, capital or small. I squirm and round in the book. I feel pages flipping to haunt my vision.  I see colouring pencils of all kinds. They make lines in front of my furrow. Take the pipe of the pen and slipt it in half. Sweep this ink off my desk. I am eerie. I scribble with no hope. I scribble with no time, on my hands. I draw in vain. I sink down in the middle of the page. I close the chapter and I quit

Blue love

My love is not a mountain. It is not hard to get to its peak. You get the right ropes, obviously strong and you get there. My love is not fire. You don’t need any woods or light. You need laughter, pieces of care and light it up with tenderness. My love is no room.

I am in love yet again. I am in love once more. I see his smile in my face. I see his picture in my sleep. I see him day and night. Yes I see him for a short while, a long while. I see him for a while. I smell him. I smell his scent in the air. Oh my god! I see him in every man. I see him. He in me and me in him. I see. Him. He whispers in my ears. His voice is soft and he’s skin is untangles. He’s beautiful. I’m in love. I’m in love yet again. I’m in love once more. I sense his [presence in the middle of the night. I sense his presence a mile away. He’s here in this heart I own. Would he rather own it and I own nothing. Would he rather take good care of me or me take care of him. How should it go? Explain. How should I love him, this time? I shut my eyes and in front of me he stands. My name he calls and my skin he kisses. I shiver. I shiver only in-depth not in width. I shiver. I shiver not to scare whim but for him to feel so much pity for me and hold me. Forever. In his loving arms.

Through death, there's a talking voice

When I am dead and alive no more; could you take that pin of metal and pin it on my hair. Take a bunch of flowers and colour my flair. Sing twinkle-twinkle star until I don’t matter, anymore. Flush down the memories of my smile, my sight and my pride. Keep quiet for a while and hum a hymn of burial. Sing no songs, just walk, and don’t talk. Lie. Lie more about how good I was and that I never sinned. Wish me alive, at least for a while. Take me with you to the grave, and look at me for the last while. Sink me down, and let me swim in the soil of the underground. Leave me there and go home.

For when you smile, my dimples show

My future is no too bright after all. It’s sandy with shadows of death. It’s carrying hallow promises of no particular law. It’s tiring. It’s glooming teasingly with no season of care, tender and fairness. I love it. I see through the cloudy success a me who has no stop signs but a brighter future than it seems. It scares me. I feel hunger for no particular reason at all. I cry. I laugh. I laugh with yesterday’s laughter. But only louder this time. Can you feel me? Can you touch my tail down there? Can you reach me? I’m high. I’m higher than I ever thought I would be. I can not be touched. I can only be pointed at with those dusking fingers. I smile. I smile after I have walked for a while, miles. I’m here. My future is not too bright after all but brighter than I have ever thought.

Soul girl in depths of Poetry

I’m a broken idol with no words. I write for sinners and the so-called saints. I hustle letters, capital or small. I squirm and round in the book. I feel pages flipping to haunt my vision.  I see colouring pencils of all kinds. They make lines in front of my furrow. Take the pipe of the pen and slipt it half. Sweep this ink off my desk. I am eerie. I scribble with no hope. I scribble with no time, on my hands. I draw in vain. I sink down in the middle of the page. I close the chapter and I quit. I am a blue writer

In the meeting of the minds