Home Letters Imaginary Love. 1.2

Imaginary Love. 1.2


My Sweet Creature,

When once a man delays a letter beyond the proper time, he delays it longer, for one or two reasons – first, because he must begin in a very common-place style, that is to say, with an excuse; and secondly things and circumstances become so jumbled in his mind, that he knows not what, or what not, he has said in his last.
I have no excuse, and should never. And also, yes, I have had opportunities of passing nights anxious and awake that I have found several thoughts intrude upon me.

However, I thought I should tell you about a privilege that the digital age has availed to the world; the storage of memories, events, and people worth note as the visual representations we know as photographs.

For a while now, I have been haunted with a sweet obsession; scrolling. Being unable to appropriate you so closely to myself, I have opted for the easier way; download a few pieces of you which I keep close to me – everywhere. I see you all the time. How my eyes have been full of happiness at it! How my senses have ached at it! How my heart has been devoted to it! You do not step or move an eyelid but it does shoot to my heart – I am greedy of you.

And when I scroll, from the first to the last, the beginning to the end, all I see is – no prizes for guessing – nothing but you. You are my new addiction, my worst distraction. You have so entrammeled me, so destroyed my freedom. I am through with other faces. Definitely.

These faces of you speak to me – like you took them to leave messages, or is it my unweathered concentration on them that interpretes them the following way.

There is one with you and an all seeing eye of your friend, J, which I could not crop out. He is forgiven because as I have always said, beauty attracts beauty. It leaves me with wishes of waking up every morning to your sweet face.

Other than bestowing your tender look upon me, another leaves me wondering why, after all that impressive dressing, you forgot to don a befitting crown?

There is one in which you display your coquettish smile that says very little but quite enough – demure but seductive. All I dream of is hearts, flowers, and white weddings – for you, as a matter of course.

And another with you in an immaculately white top, with your well-kempt hair looking like silk, eyes like black diamonds, body like a tender bamboo shoot, and luscious red lips reminds me of why I hate the world: it batters too much of my self-will and If I could, I would take a sweet poison from your lips to send me out of it. From no others would I take it.

One shows you looking as good as ever with what I have always believed is the simplest of all aphrodisiacs – your hair, all natural, pulled back and tied into a ponytail, your young, wild and free self activated as it left your mouth agape, and all your curves and edges – quite noticeable, thanks to a body hugging dress that revealed your innate sense of haute-couture, as if you were a mannequin made flesh, delicious but untouchable. Indeed, there is complexity in simplicity. And if you ever let me, I will lick chocolate off your stomach. Yes, seeing it was quite inevitable.

Another, could have been my favorite, became a victim of a photo edit. It has your cute self, golden not with age but edit, alone with your own thoughts as you looked slyly at the world outside your window. Lovely. It reminds me of the first word I said about/to you other than “Hi, M is here, feel free to join us” – beautiful.

I laugh, quietly, to myself whenever I see one with you in big replicas of Ray Bans, with your eyes wide open, and shinny lips bit on one side. You looked like a sweet, crunchy, munchy, little thing.

Not to sound selfish but my favorite is – you guessed right – not one I downloaded but that you did send me. Seeing you happy and in great spirits was a great detoxifier for my intoxicated self after an evening of burning calories and replacing them with one too many beverages as we, seating in different positions, enjoyed a performance by the reason we know each other, M.

Indeed, music is binding for from opposite ends of a lifetime we came and found a breath of magic hovering in between.
From opposite ends of a heart we smile, two lives blended into one, together, smiling and young, the beautiful woman that you are, and I.
I am still lost in that moment. You sent silver, sparkle, thunder, moonlit, sunshine shivers through, and through, and through me. I was absolutely delighted, thrilled, and blissfully happy.

O how I wish there was enough time that day! How I wish I had drawn out the shirt on my shoulder and read to you the R, and Q inspired words printed on it “Eija Nkutware” – because in the peregrine life I am planning on living, all I wish is that you would come live with me, and be my love.

Nyamurungi, like you see, it is the little things, like photos, that make the big difference. Even when I close my eyes, there is an image of your face. I see your silhouette every time I close my eyes. You are with me when I am all alone. I cannot get over how you make everything feel right. Would not trade this feeling for nothing.

My Sweet Creature, stay well. One has to find another distraction other than growing his hair or this big city he now calls home will be the end of him.

God bless you more, love.


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