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You might never know the pain
That comes with
Waiting for love...
You might NEVER even find.
The patience on love can make one grow really weary, but it is not for the faint-hearted because of this reason.
Good day Gosiame,
Many consider the broad strokes on wide grins the epitaph of love. My misadventures have the pessimist within eager to press this home. I still quietly revel at the stolen few, for the current days and status like demeanours that determine our life’s compatibilities have them reduced to but an air of myth. Urban legend if you will.  Happiness was foretold and so it shall be but happiness also resides comfortably within conflict. The many contradictions that define the needs and wants of the heart offer up the best versions of such. Happiness does if anything represent a worthwhile attempt at those grins, thus the reluctant pursuit.
I wanted you when you barely knew I existed but still I could illicit some pearly whites, my maths seemed flawed…
The heart is a destructive tool but remains the bravest of all organs and thus the most important. We do battle for matters that affect it. We challenge all reason and enter debate with our fears for the heart. A tentative approach is the most convenient vice but involve the imaginarium and the possibility of a mind without realms, you notice that it’s far from just a solitary foot in.
The world understands us not. It was never designed to. In all its materialistic glory, ours is a matter that comes unbound and again your grins have my nature ever more complicit. I should tell you to quit it because you ruin me, but the possibilities of having you even attempt to put me back together with that unassuming glance you possess…
See it’s hope that marks my inability to string anything past the outwardly curl and partial lift at the ends of your mouth. Someday, one day soon I might yet hold all rights and the good fortune of that moment your checks swell up, eyes half flutter and your sincerity bursts through. That moment when you stop time and in staring you on I am front and centre to all that matters at that particular moment. Your blessings never cease
Regards,

MY FIRST & LAST LOVE LETTER

This I declare as my first & last love letter
Dedicated to the woman who looked at me and thought that I was better
In a sea of many men with fragile hearts and broken dreams
She chose to mend mine
In the process of putting the pieces together, she used herself as the glue & now
She is permanently a part of my new Picasso image of refined love.
A kind heart that lacks not a kind word in moments when emotions overflow
Poetry makes it easy for me to express these emotions
'Cause if I was an ordinary man I would have died in silence & left her seeking solace
Jesus would have to come back & perform all his miracles in order to reach out to her heart & resurrect my soul.
Enough about the riddle talk now let's go back to the love notes that make up this melody in my heart
The woman with a smile that brings out the life in my soul
She, the woman who invades my thoughts more than a germ invades a surface.
I find myself humming love tunes & writing love poems at the thought of you
Hoping to spend all my desired forevers with you
If only this was to be true
We all know that life has no guarantees
So I have prepared & cleaned up a small room for disappointment because of you
'Cause this love thing we have going seems too good to be true
Call me a sceptic but I've come to believe that your presence in my system is therapeutically septic
You have injected me with life but you still remain the potential cause of my fate
Explains why every time after I ****** in your presence at the dear end I end up in a faint
Totally disconnected from existence
A wonderfully dreadful experience
A once in a lifetime moment that resulted in me writing you this love poem
Which I have declared as the first & last love letter because I believe that you deserve better...   (to be continued)
Something about death always turns into an emotional journey through all and any memories you've had with someone throughout your lives,
Going through the penetrating pain of how you can't not let go when the time comes,
There's no mental preparation for what life without a person you've grown to treasure in your life turns out to be.

That's true,
No preparation,
NONE whatsoever!!!

It is an inevitable part of our lives
that ultimately comes out to greet us
and at that point we really have to smile and wave,
irrespective of our energy levels
A collaboration between Khayalabo Ngudu ThePoet and Nonkululeko Anicia Khumalo describing death.
That's the thing about poets
Where others see a storm
We are reminded that our hearts are not alone in their torment
Where others hear rain
We hear the whispers of a thousand forgotten dreams
Where others feel cold
We feel ice piercing into our souls making us bleed out all of our secrets

That's the thing about poets
Only the beautifully tragic can understand them
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