This was supposed to be a song about you, like all other songs, seeing as you’re my muse.
(Why are you my muse?)
I had it all planned out: short punchy lines leading up to the doors of your heart.
(Why do I want your heart? I’m not even that fond of red meat. Last night’s chicken pizza was delectable. I enjoy cold pizza.)
My heart (and other parts) nary rests for longings of you (oh, longings).
(Why am I pining for you again? I don’t even think I want you any more.)
Memories of our firsts keep me grinning: our first ice cream, our first coffee date….., me thinking I’m the s**t for paying the bill, you letting me have that moment of ego gratification, because, come on, Miss Independent-Nini-Nini, kwani kahawa kwako ni nini?
(I should’ve bought that Junot Diaz book instead. I’ll do that this time. Ice cream and coffee be damned!)
Your lips still beckon freshly, newly, red red pleasure, sweet sweet release.
(Did I carry my lip balm? Those salted peanuts turned my lips ashen.)
I want to bury myself in your pain, as I want you to bury yourself in me.
(Which reminds me, I need to get that Mario Puzo novel that took a swim repaired. I knew I should’ve placed it on my desk last night before I turned in.)
I almost said your name out loud, for the want of sheer ecstasy. If pronouncing your name was similar to chewing cactus, I would, gladly. There is no pain with you.
(Chewing?……. Chewing. Ah, ABZ tablet! Slipped my mind for a few months, there.)
You probably don’t even read these wramblings. You’re too busy being awesome, and ain’t nobody got time….. I wish you did, though, like you do for one of those fellas, and I admit, I do get jealous of those fellas.
(wramblings…..written ramblings. Go ahead, you can use it. Wait, did i just use ‘fellas’? And no angry red underlining?! Come on, Spellcheck!! (Oh, now you underline, yourself at that!))
This was supposed to be a song about you.
(Because….. Because….. Oh, tea time!)