Nwoke’m

Do you ever listen to your own repetitive connections at 03:00 am too?

Image result for sexy black man in black and white

Picture gotten from-Pininterest

I’m starting to think imaginations are art. I’m starting to love the entangling emotions built from it. How strangely I could be fluid and solid like an umelted candle at the same time. I’m starting to feel all the same.

Yesterday, I thought. The day before I did too and many days and months before then again, I’ve been thinking. How would someone like you meet me? Would it be spontaneous, would be soft or angry? Would it be in a crowded room or when I’m by myself. That’s the scary part of thinking. I don’t want to be ready. I want to be with myself in full, in love, vulnerable and loud. I want us to meet unforced just like the universe has been with me lately. No mind games, no holding back. I like the modern approach, the evolution of it all. Descriptive dialogues and unending gist of our taste in music, books, movies and other people, what we worry about when it gets dark. Tell me where else you would be when you’re not with me.

Nwoke’m

When you’re here, your past is. The darkness of it won’t scare my love, I pray. The time you choose to be weak, I’ll be strong, I pray. The time you’d change, I’d learn to adapt, I pray. These are not my affirmations, they are hopefully who I’ll grow to be for me and for you until that “someday”. I believe our feet have come across same footpaths more than twice, I believe time is keeping you for magic. You are a future to wait for.

Keep yourself for me.

Nwoke’m (Igbo translation for “my man”)

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2017.

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Blogging series 3: The fortress of our romance

by Vic-Sandra

Image result for romance in black and white

                                        Picture gotten from-Rominblack

Words unspoken
Eyes unrelated
The quiet of the distance
The distance between the space
Her tongue rising only to fall
Her lips parting only to sigh
And her voice heard, only to falter
And only the heart in his voice could lift her gaze

And this is the fortress of our romance;
Backs aback,
Rears at rage,
Thumping thresholds,
Even the boundaries bicker
The carcasses of our empty pain linked umbilically
And the laughs of our yesterday stand appalled
Is this the fortress of our romance?

Tight eyes open only with hope of a promise
The promise to be held beyond our grief
And the faith in his safe hands,
Ones that nudged my entirety to life
And cradled my fears to sleep
For the edge we sought had found us
And only our instinctive breath had pulled us beyond our volatile volition
In hindsight, this really was our fortress
For only here did we fight, to love
And cry to smile
And part to be held.

Part 1: contributed by Dyna Ekwueme

In soft touch we rekindled,

doses of unfelt passion.

The place we had it all

bearing  it with trade marks of our untold kisses

The memoirs of our romance

The letters written in penance.

Oh darling! how strong can you feel this love

the plight of our soft edges.

Let me save you this beating heart

a thousand times and more

to feel this thing we bore,

Love, Ore.

Disclaimer:This piece was originally written by Vic-Sandra and part contributed by me. No parts were added by any other.

Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.