April 17th

I look at the layers of your skin
I wonder what’s buried underneath
I look at the sins that are your lips
I wonder what Hell tastes like
I think about the temptation between your thighs
And I want to knock on Heavens gates

A voice sweet and coarse, it tastes like childhood memories. You carry Africa on your back and have pride in all that makes you African. I can’t believe it is only know that I have dared to write about you. I cannot understand how it is only recently that I have thought about you in such a sinful manner.
They say be careful who you write about, because once you write about someone you make them eternal. Well I guess I’m fucked because this is undoubtedly about you. I hope you enjoy your immortality within these words. This is not a confession of love or anything so extreme. It is merely my way of recognizing the potential effect you may have on my life.
This could all be nothing, and nothing is all we might be.
But in case we are destined for a little more than nothing, let it be said, although I’ve thought about you many a times, this is the first I thought about us. 17/04/2016, 02:17.

The happiness they are searching for is a heart break away
I didn’t want to use the word love,
For its potency is unwelcomed
But let us face it
We are all timidly, recklessly hoping for love.
We just not looking
But sometimes, hope needs a humble hand
– Kata

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s