A poem written by my heart so every single word you hear is a pulse. I’m a literary writer living inside the mind of a spoken-word poet. I still write beautiful words; you can ask Luyanda – even she knows it. Things change, circles grow smaller, conversations get shorter and eventually hearts grow distant. But I’m glad that Luyanda, Faith and I still manage to talk every now and then. It’s sad to see that you’re not around, it’s like you just disappeared into thin air. Still hoping that you’d call or text but you’ve probably lost my numbers by now. If you’re willing to talk to me, I promise to listen like I always do. You can count on me like an abacus, sounds cliché but you know it’s true. Even if things don’t always go my way, I just hope that everything will be okay. I’m learning to embrace a metamorphosis I was previously oblivious to. It’s still no mystery why my aura will always long for the company of yours. I’m a literary writer living inside the mind of a spoken-word poet. I still write beautiful words; you can ask William – even he knows it. Time is wasted so I patiently wait for the clock to get sober eventually. Things change but I’m glad that William, Terrence and I still manage to talk every now and then. It’s sad to see that you’re not around, it’s like you just disappeared into thin air. Still hoping that you’d call or text but you’ve probably lost all touch with most people by now.