There’s something exquisite about your smile, your brown eyes have got me hypnotised, and your heart is a gold mine. I’m addicted to everything you say and do, so be my poet and I’ll be your muse. We’ll figure out everything else once we’ve found something to do between our sporadic bursts of laughter. Let me comfort you with soulful conversations accompanied by several bottles of red wine. We could vibe out and listen to James Blake, and you could tell me about the days when you couldn’t see the colour in anything. I’m no stranger to the waves of the ocean, so I eventually want to get lost in the depths of you. You are a picturesque South African city worth exploring even when tourists no longer come to visit. Their dollars, euros, pounds, nairas and rupees may run dry but my love for you will keep overflowing. I could write poetry and love letters on your skin but my handwriting is not as beautiful as my words are. I’ll be your poet in a world that’s still acquainting itself with all the writers of exquisite African literature. In the Supreme Court of your love, people have told you untruths while under oath – I think the law calls it perjury. We could vibe out and listen to James Blake, and you could teach me how you see the colour in everything. I want to get lost in an endless field of sunflowers while basking in the warmth of your presence.