My closest friends knows about you. Each time I get myself a girlfriend, they often ask, what happened to you. I always tell them, that you’re just around. And if my girlfriend reads this, she’ll be waiting for me, sitting on the veranda, with a scowl grinned on her forehead; just at the time I’ll be getting home from work. She won’t give me a hug, or take my briefcase and usher me in. Holding on to her phone, with this piece screaming on the screen, she’ll show it to me. With veins vexed on her face. She’ll ricochet.
“Hizi ni nini Sasa? ? Phill hizi ni madharau gani unanionyesha mbele ya watu?”
She’ll throw the words to my face, demanding for an explanation. Which I’ll try to give, but my hesitation will make her lock me out. Even though I’ll end up spending the cold night on the veranda, she’ll open up at around 3 am. She’ll let me in.
In bed, she’ll cuddle all the blanket to herself. I’ll move close to her. She’ll poke me back with her behind, and move to the edge of the wall.
I’ll reach to her waist. She’ll say,
“Phill sitaki kusumbuliwa..”
I’ll whisper close to her ears, “Babe, si you know nakupenda…”
She’ll say, “usiniongeleshe. Nataka kulala..”
“Aki babe, naskia baridi” I’ll hiss back.
“Si upigie crush wako aje akupe joto. .” She’ll brush me off.
I’ll be on it for 30 minutes, when she’ll give in. She’ll turn around, face me and curl her legs around me. Smelling fire. There’s something to her playing hard to get that makes her hot. Some sort of a foreplay. And her steaming up, with every ounce of her breath begging me, soliciting me, “Phill, nakupenda”. At that moment ‘my man’ would majestically in heroism see a Lee way to freedom. And we’ll make out. I love her. Probably you don’t even exist. Maybe we will never meet.
So I’m writing this 3 years later, in 2018. To let you know that the wait is over. That finally I have found the one. That somehow we would lay to waste the time we spent talking over the phone and having dreams for us two. That somehow, we haven’t met, yet we grasped the infinitesimal details about each one of us. The tiny specks of details that exist on our faces. How beautiful our kids would be. How tragic would it be when everything vanquished. At this juncture, my girlfriend interrupts me, asking.
“Do you still have feelings for her? ”
To which, I’ll sadly and innocently answer whilst sorrowfully shaking my head, “I don’t know…. We’ve never met!”
So dear crush. Why is it taking so long?
***
As written by Phill Ibsen
( Master Of Descriptions )
A Heart_Art_Poetics productions
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