VOICELESS CONVERSATIONS

 

[only If you could read my mind]

Like hairs attached to our skins,

Is the same way my love is with you.

Deeply-rooted into your pores, 

The same way your fingers sink into my anatomy.

Like the way chandeliers hang up in a lit ballroom, 

Thoughts of you bringing light to my soul hang in the same manner. 

Like Steve Jobs commencement speech,

You have touched my life and connected the dots of who I am. 

Like the way you look at yourself in the mirror,

You look at me as a reflection of genuine admiration, 

As if your actions do not already assure me of your love. 

God created this universe but to you; 

I AM GOD. 

Like how the golden syrup hits the first batch of pancakes on a sentimental morning, 

Your words come with such softness , warmth and an extra spoon of sweetness. 

Like why would another man treat this treasure like trash?

But again, every man's trash is another man's treasure. 

Like what amount of gratitude would I have to express in order to thank those who failed to sustain this connection, this energy,

THIS GOD OF A WOMAN. 

Like even her being called our love,

Is a statement itself for our love.

Our first date was at Soulfood Sundays,

Her favourite dish was She had a daughter. 

I hope we have a daughter. 

Like how do I, 

as a poet, 

fall short when it comes to describing this tender black woman?

But then remember:

There is no amount of words in the English world that can align with a Black Goddess.

" Like what ?" She said , waiting for me to share these thoughts out loud.