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Sunday, 5 March 2017


I've been with so many, but it's only because i try to find you in them.
Whistling Davido's one of a kind, but in reality you mirror two kinds.
A part of you is fierce, assertive and diva-esque.
The other is mellow, soft and soothing like the oceans' breeze
You always gave me that brain freeze.
Like i had OD'ed on some "coldstone cream".
And you gave me frostbite too, saved only by your warmth... damn you was hot as steam.
You and I were a team, smashing all in our way.
But then we were young, wild and foolish.

And ever since we split, i put my feelings on a leash.
This was never malice, i'm well in line with what the pastor preaches.
I just came to a realization that i could never sacrifice for another as i did for you.
You were my rhythm and with a voice so beautiful you obviously were my blues.
So i guess you're the only one that would understand why i might never go both feet in again.
My loss.... my gain???
It probably all boils down to the fact that i felt real love too early, cupid struck me in my teen.
Yes i mean when i was a shorter version of me, with cheek bones so glaring... damn!  i was so thin.
Yet you fell for me anyways... and dragged me deeper into the abyss of love.
Till this day i've been trying to get out without any success, flying with broken wings like a wounded dove.
You gave me a push and i gave you a shove.
Or was it the other way around?
Back and forth we went, until the vase holding our flowers shattered as it nosedived into the ground.
Its interesting how wounds leave scars as reminders.
It's even more intriguing how these scars sometimes serve as blinders.
As we never wanna know if the source of our pain could still be manoeuvred to milk out a gain.
All we think of is the stab... the flame...
Then we cringe at the pain, and say "never would i be subjected to the same".
I personally left mine at the window pane.
Let me love not as i once did in my teens.
And if i ever do... i'd get me a knife and cut out my spleen.
I don't even wanna know its last seen
'Coz this ain't whatsapp.
Its time is past.
Unless i somehow wake up and am sixteen once more.
Then there's nothing more I'd want more.
Than to plant a kiss on your head, at its very fore.

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