Reality check…I’m so sad really, cause all the odds work against me. Feeling like a minute organism swimming upstream; amidst a thick viscous liquid. Feeling like all I’m doing is fighting a battle I won’t win…bringing a knife to a gun fight. We all know how that’ll end.
It’s past midnight. She falls asleep softly. As I lie awake at night, tossing and turning in my bed, wondering and fighting demons in my head. Angels fighting this war for me have fled, as I seek to cherish this mortal’s heart and spirit.
I’ll be at a point of no return, soon enough. I’m not falling for her, no, that would be wrong. I’m rising for her, I’m rising to be with her. I want to be more for her, as she is- within me; she hides the scars that have moulded her character. She hides her struggles that have made her a beautiful being. I want to map all the contours of her life, so as to make sense of who she is, what makes her unique.
I need to understand her reasons of why life has to be lived. Make sense of the finer things in life that make life worth living for her sake. I’ll love to see the world through her eyes’ lens. What makes the convergence of the harsh realities both the convex and concave lights rays convey there as they bounce to her brain.
On most occasions, she’s mine to behold and mine to adore. In my day dreams of course. On those moments, I hold her hands on mine, interlock them firmly yet not tightly. I walk with her down the streets, so proud without fuss, that she’s mine. I let the world see how happy she makes me, and in turn, it reciprocates right back at her, the bliss.
That vista shines bright in my mind, from time to time, when we walk there, then I stop and admire her. Her hair well kept, natural African hair, her cute coral dress worn to the right length just above her knees. Complimented with her flat Toms ladies’ shoes for comfortability and agility, gliding through those marble tiles as though she is walking on air, swift short steady walks.
Her gentleness mesmerizes me. She talks softly, and she’s cautious with her sound. Just the right amount of air passes through her larynx, as her cords spell out words with such finesse. Any mundane effort to speak, may render one unconscious. That’s why, I think, she has to talk so gently, like a goddess, or else, she can enduce hypnosis to the listener. That’s why all her speeches are well calculated, the right amount of joy, mixed with the right proportion of seriousness and my favourite ingredient, care.
I care for her, I care for her happiness. But, I’m not sure how much care I’ll still have, when, reality checks! And, the rubber meets the road. She’s not mine in reality to behold, I’m merely a passerby, still hoping she’ll notice the worth and conform to the standards, that I can be here to stay, if she let’s me. All she’s got to do, is let me in, in her insides, her gorgeous heart. And forever make the far flung hopes a reality. Never to make herself wonder or remember of a love she never had.