The Unanswered Whys

My Naked Self

Here I am naked in front of you

I've told you who I am, where I come from

and what I'm looking for

I've revealed everything about myself

I've told you about my fears

I admitted my darkness

I've entrusted you with my precious stone

I've given you my all

I've let go of my insecurities

Here I was learning to love again.

What do you do when history revisits

Conversation with a friend

History has a funny way of repeating itself, these words escaped my mouth in February.

Friend: History you say,

Me: Yeah history friend. You know that thing that happened in the past and you prayed to God that it should never happen again. Well history just love being present.

Let the beauty flourish

Let the beauty flow

I have always wondered how people get to write beautiful love poems, love stories. Where do they get their inspiration?  How do those words get to flow so easily on paper? How the keyboard listens to their fingers and letter falls into place, forming beautiful sentences, lovely paragraphs. Few years back I said; “the day I'll be inspired by love I'll tell the world of its beauty.” But such beauty don't seem to be written. I have experienced love (friendship, family, self, all love) but the beauty of these words do not want to escape my thoughts. My fingers do not cooperate with how I'm feeling. What goes on paper is not what I'm thinking.  

An Apology

The broken

I said I’m sorry but you still don’t believe me

I know I have hurt you

I know I have done you wrong

I know I have tormented your world

I know I have made you hate mankind

I know I lied to you, I told you not to worry.

I know you have asked me countless times who this person was

I lied and said he’s my cousin

I lied and said he’s my buddy, my closest male friend

I lied and said he’s a guy who offered me a lift non-else

So I was the Makhwapheni

The moment I found out I was the Makhwapheni.

He came up to me, hit me with the best line, all smiles and knees weaken. I’m taken to another world that no man can explain. I’m flattered by this nice gentleman, his eyes, smile, teeth, those looks, he’s just unbelievable. He's a smooth talker; he wants nothing but simple friendship. Well; why not, I can be friends.

Three years later he confesses his love, I'm what he's been looking for all these years, he says. “You're the best friend a guy could ever have, how about we turn this relationship into a romantic one.” Without hesitation, we started dating. The guy was just too ‘perfect’, I’ve seen his flaws, knew his past and judging from our friendship I quite liked him. I fell for him so hard.

Dear Passion

Dear Passion

I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for you. I don't think I'd be able to wake in the morning and genuinely look forward to my day. I don't know if I'd be able to breathe without you. Without you passion I'm incomplete. Over the past months, I must admit I did somehow let you go. My mind was clouded by the glamour of the end result. I had forgotten that the road ain't steady. I know; I saw what others were getting and wondered why am I left in a ditch where passion seems to be disappointing me.
I've followed you all these years but I've never seemed to be content. What is it really that you want from me? You have shown me glimpses of you, I have been to most of your spheres yet I was never in. Only once, one of your spheres looked all good and I was certain about it, you came back and said not this time. 

A Letter to you

Dear Blinded Eye

The Eye

The eye that refuses to see what is there. The eye that profoundly makes its own conclusion of what is there. To the eye that sees nothing but just blackness, to the eye that refuses to transmit messages back to the brain. To the eye that confuses the heart. To the eye that sees it’s own reality and forgets what was and what is. To the eye that refuses the reality presented to it. To the eye that don't see the signs of what is to be. 

Muntu Omuhle:Words of Admiration

Ngivumele muntu omuhle

Your beauty shines through the eyes of the blind, that it make him exclaim in awe, shocked by your beauty that restores his sight.

Your beauty turns a drunkard into a pastor, as he praises your maker, abonge ubuhle bakho for buya mangaza.

Your beauty is so eccentric that not even words can describe it.

Your beauty exhumes the magnificent of mankind, the womanhood who stand strong and defeats all strongholds.

Your beauty turns a player into a husband material, for ufuna uk'protector his queen

Your beauty steals the heart of a thief that he sentences himself into a love slave, for eternity.

Your beauty has converted a rebel into a saint, for he has stumbled across the fine marbles of womankind.