Dear Honey Sauce,
Um… He… Hel…Hello.. Sir…
Sorry dude. I realize I am stuttering but you might want to pardon me, seeing that you still make me tense. However long it’s been, you still cause butterflies to flutter my breadbasket.
I woke up forty minutes before my alarm time today. Ah! I sank back in my pillow and fell in a brown study with my mind going muse in about a thousand wool-gathering directions. I was hung up on the fact that I couldn’t fall back to sleep despite numerous attempts to slow down my thoughts.
Do you remember our first conversation? Do you remember how we landed into each other’s phonebook? No? I don’t either. I only remember I waited a coon’s age for you to ask for my WhatsApp number. Or my twitter handle so you could tag me on memes at least. I remember the first time I cooked for you; nsima with fried pork and you mentioned, almost as an after thought, that you loved it. My heart did a happy dance and I almost died of euphoria. I still remember the first time I tasted your mouth. How softly you did it. I drew you to me with my eyes half open in desire and my hands under your shirt gently sliding across your chest to your back. You inclined your face towards me laying your mouth to mine with your hands tight around my waist pulling me in. You took your time to enjoy my lips, slowly transitioning from using your lips to gently squeezing mine with your teeth and then slowly pulling back so that my lips slowly slide through your teeth. I felt a rush of sensation and a gushing flood of warmth that left me weak at the knees. Kissing is for me the most intimate gesture; nothing beats a perfect lip-lock with someone I love, if I may take the leeway of calling it that.
You are by far the ou I have had a yen for the most. You are that man who makes my soul ache with longing and my body shiver under your slightest touch. The first time I saw you, it was as though I had seen sunset for once in my lifetime. Your brown caramel face was graceful with this little delightful twist you do with the edge of your lips and I was won over. I immediately thought of you as aloof and only interested in technical and intellectual subjects. When we started talking, I realized how much of a good cheer you can be. You told me about your childhood. About your family. Your passion for storytelling and how ardent and curious for details you are.
I sought consolation in your arms when I was razed to the ground and sat in the thick of the ruins of my former joys and eating my heart out over my calamities. When things around were setting me on a bustling fire, I experienced some level of freedom from all the anxiety when you took me into your arms. How then could I not get attached to such warmth of care? Who wouldn’t anyway?
If dreams really come true, I would want to sleep next to you every night. In the most innocent sense of that phrase so I could see you when I wake up from my dreams.
If dreams come true, we could be together doing stories for days because some days I have dreamt of you, of us walking together as one holding hands and talking about our goals. About our fears. About our commitments and interests. We would be wending our way and riding bikes in Karura. We would be winding down in ranches, riding horses and laughing at nothing in particular.
Today, there was this beautiful sunrise.
I saw it and thought of you.
If you were mine, I would have rang you and told this in exact words… “Lets ride into the sunrise. We won’t come back until late when the stars have filled the skies in our eyes. We’ll paint the sunset with colors of dreams. Dreams we’ll create with desirous schemes. Those thousand dreams that become ours. I’ll use shooting stars to write, “I Love You” on stellar blackboard. We’ll fly past galaxies on gossamer wings. I’ll tell our favorite star of special things you’ve made me feel; that you’re the face in the misty light of the moon. The laugh that floats on cosmic breeze in June. You’re the magic spark of nature’s fiery cone. The ember of joy I call my own. Venus and cupid sigh when I say I feel so very lucky to be loving you.”
I can turn you into poetry any day because nothing takes the taste out of Honey Sauce quite like you. Nonetheless, I will take my chance to write on the stellar board that you are the best of the bunch. Easy to love and very hard to hate in view of the fact that you have your heart in the right place.
Look, you are not mine because Cupid ran out of arrows and shot one instead of two. Venus sighs sending down hugs for solace seeing that these words will just find home here and not there.
Yours True Scribbler,
Till Next Week Com’s
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