And…you say that my love is like a raging fire, flashes of yellow, red, orange and a twinge of blue, flames that light up your world and burn it down to grey ashes…
You say…it’s hard to tame me.
A lion cannot tame the one who hunts and brings home the prey…a lioness
You say my heart is as cold as June in Nairobi, but hey, Nyeri’s always been cold, but even Nyaru’s never gone beyond 17 degrees Celcius, do the flowers die?
You say I am not like the other chics…now, I know nothing of the other chics, for what I carry around are my dreams, emotions, and this body that goes on the two legs that seem to get me miles away from what you say…
I say my version of events do not thrive on your validation neither do they cease to enlighten me when you choose to shun me away.
Oh, but what do I know because though I stand my ground, I still come back to you, begging and pleading and staying up late waiting…for you, my dearest blank page, are the one who consumes my thoughts, my feelings and desires, now with this heartfelt plea, would you let me be and let these words flow?