Love Letter

How can I write something which is beyond my imagination, I would rather paint this picture with emotions and feelings in me? She did not only maintain me as a writer but completely made me an author and an artist at the same time. I cannot say she is love or life because I feel she is more than that she feels like she is infinite in my mortal days. The undying love in her cries out that I yearn to be in her arms forever. What kind of love story would I want to write after this because nothing would amount to this for its not fantasy or imagination? This is more than reality it seems its faith for I believe in her in my heart. I don’t know maybe I am just a fool in love but all I know is she makes me wiser.

All that I wish is to provide her days with more laughter and smiles (especially her beautiful smile) than with tears. The tears I want only her to have I tears of joy when she sees me every day. She is not a goddess but a human with a heart of a goddess that is purified as gold. If there is any time that is hard to believe in love I would rather believe in her. She might not be perfect but my love for her is just perfect. I don’t promise her much or nothing less but I promise her me. This is not infatuation for I don’t want what she can give but what she is. I am lost and I wish your heart will find me. I just don’t understand all this but only that tears filled my eyes when I was writing this. Surely what is love when you feel more than that, for it cannot explain how I cherish to be in your mind and heart? It’s a point even when I cannot write more but will rather express it for I can never be a hypocrite when it comes to love. Love is all that we have is there anything gods and humans long for. I pray every day of my life that as I see you your beauty continue to augment in mine red eyes. 

The good question is that after pouring me on this would she conceives the courage to love me back and would understand if she never talks back to me. How can I expect someone to love, to be more than my inspiration but my better days on this cruel world and troubled days on earth. I am not good with words of love at least she make me say them with comfort. All I know is there is a little place for me in her heart if she permits me in that sacred place. We can never be Romeo and Juliet or Jack and Rose but it’s just me and her, for I cherish for ours to have a good ending. How I long to enrich my history with her in it, to paint this story into a rainbow (the mother of colour’s of beauty) so that all who will see it adore its beauty. Now I understand why John Keats mentioned that a thing of beauty is joy forever. After all this is only for you and tell me what would you do after knowing what you mean to me? Would you love me back because I love YOU or you would walk away, after all the choice is hers but only what I know is that I wrote this one for YOU.

I only realised that at the end of the day love is nothing but a strange being which desert you in time when you think you got everything under control. Since the one I wrote this letter to do not understand the hidden meaning that love without sacrifice is like a car without fuel in which mobility is restricted or shunned. I don’t blame her love does not come easy to her, expressed words even formed within genuine emotions are a deception to her, she perceives love is hard work. To me love is a supernatural fundamental that I express naturally, that was not good enough, well is it not what one can expect from a poet. Imagination and words are part of my life and were perfection of every man is born. I would love to write more of this letter but I have nothing to write any more maybe because there was never me and YOU from the beginning. 

LOVE INSIDE LOVE

Sitting on the park bench reading the poem she admired since the last afternoon. So curious that she could not wait to understand what really transpired. She was in love with this story clung to its originality. The story that let her feel the bliss of immortality that she longed to quench so much, drawn by her, a story in that poem which was so romantic and profusely aroused her feelings in the body. Longing for him waiting by the chimney leaning towards the warmth of the fire, firmly holding a wine glass quarterly filled with sweet red wine impatiently. She could not stop cherishing the sweet memories that they had with Patrick since their high school years. Interrupted by the sudden sound of the door knob being turned, certainly the room was filled with the aura of his cologne.

The two love birds cuddle on the couch, smooching, immediately with a cough Patrick enforced it to a halt and started to gaze at her beautiful portrait in the lounge. Sluggishly he pulled out a white written paper in his left side pocket. Patrick softly and slowly exercising care begun to read to Naomi, blown away the only thing to her grasp was holding tightly her necklace locket as she was listening attentively. Virginia was the young naïve lady in the priceless poem, she was in her late teen age and she was now becoming of age. She has not felt what love was like, a free spirit waiting to be tamed.  Her eyes fixed on Jack, suddenly she started to realise those feelings condoned in her life.

Love was a strange creature to her she never thought could be harnessed but the day she saw Jack, she felt this warmth beyond what could be fathomed. Jack was amazed at how this girl could gaze at him for a long time with ease. Jack introduced himself to her and all she could do was look down as she swerves her hands softly like a child who lacks confidence in front of his classmates. Jack opened his mouth allowing the soft tone of his voice to tell a story to Virginia about his past. Jack in his youth never had believed in love at first sight but the day she saw Norah was the first and last day he ever had faith in it. In a coffee shop just by the corner of the main street Jack was having a nice, hot and delicious cup of coffee. A light skinned curvaceous lady walks in the shop with a white red flowered dress to a knee height and brunette hair touching her shoulders.

He hurriedly persuaded her to join him but she completely refused saying she was waiting for someone important, as she sat at the table opposite to his she kept looking at her golden watch impatiently. Seconds became minutes and minutes became hours but David did not turn up since he was with Sharon who he worked with at the Accounting Consultancy. Due to the nature of the work David was employed under he was forced to stay at the Consultancy dealing with a client’s books. This even forced him to forget the date he have with Norah. Suddenly with little hesitation the woman closed the book, from which she was reading this poem and paces off from the African Unity Square Park since it was now dark. Briskly she walked towards the Copacabana bus rank to border commuter bus to Budiriro, she has lost track of time enjoying the priceless work of art she cherished. 

short story:she is my love story

She is my love story

The emotions that I feel when I see her are so strong that even if I try to erase them in my mind they tend to grow more. The words to describe them comprehend every definition in the dictionary. It’s strange how she does not understand the lens my heart sees her through. My world is just situated next to her world but we seem so far off and also I lack the courage and will to tell her what are feel. My filthy hands do not  only long to touch her firm boobs that are well built on her chest same as my lips long to touch hers every night. Yet my hands long to reach for her love as my lips wish to taste her undying young love. What is courage when you are in a strange place were to express love is a taboo and sacrifices are crippled, but she is my love story my inspiration because of her I continue to write. She is more than my role model she is life itself because it’s now hard to live without seeing her.

Now I understand what love is, I was handicapped in expressing my emotions but everyday as I saw her she gives me another opportunity to write another exquisite love story. It’s the fire of the thirst of her love that gives birth to this zeal that provides warmth in my heart. Every day I imagine if it possible that I will tell her what I feel since the emotions are now over spilling to be words and thoughts. I am afraid they would start to develop into actions since they are now forming into verbs. When you see her you wonder what’s extra ordinary about her, but as you learn to know her more your feelings would transform to be supernatural so that the guise of this magic cannot be condoned. Lately I was of little knowledge about the difference between magic and miracles. All I know is both are able to happen without our knowledge as she is my secret miracle to grace the short prescribed mortal days.

I wonder if she can ever love me back so that I am afraid to give my love were it would be rejected. They tell me love is not love until you give it away, yet how can I give something that I cherish so much if it will be diluted with rejection and fills my heart with regret? No one has ever described love to me but now I know to love is to die because that’s the point being you cease to exist giving room for its resurrection into compromise. Maybe this is infatuation which is slowly forming into lust but if it is, how can it last? She loves me she loves me not is the only words in my mind, my imagination and fantasy is only filled with her picture of a warm beautiful smile decorated by dimples on her cheeks.

I am not ashamed of her love even if it is considered deviation to prescribed norms to restrict me to enrich myself with this satisfaction. This satisfaction allows a vague tomorrow to be filled with much hope to survive beyond every endeavor. Quench my thirst with this cistern of yours waters that are sacred only permitted to those that pilgrimage to your heart. I am lost only you can grant me that mercy of being found in your arms. Hearts can be fragile but this passion that I have for you make mine strong to live for an ultimate purpose. That’s what lust can do to a man even giving words to say, but maybe my mind is blind and only my heart knows she is my love story.