He didn’t return my call. He showed up at my door, so tall. He brought flowers, which fade, but held lasting promises. His sultry smile was brighter than the light of the moon. His lips were more delicate than rose petals strewn at my feet. I gazed at his creased chin. My tongue replete with questions, like where have you been?
His brown eyes were sun rays that melted my heart. We had dinner at my humble abode. Tonight we chose Indian cuisine: lamb saag, mango lassis, and a little naan. Somebody say amen. We relied on God, not a star to wish upon. Our sacred romance was better than finding water amidst the desert sands. I enjoy opening my home to the ones I love. This was heaven-sent. The plan originated from above. His arrival as gentle as a dove.
I closed the door on the winds of change. The naked breeze carried joy and pain reflected on the pages of my diary. For once, I felt safe. That night we did not register our content on the internet through its intricate web. We were entangled in each other’s arms. We danced to Tere Bina. I am a black girl with Bollywood, bubble-gum moves. It was the new year - a celebration. We told intimate stories and made clean jokes. I could give birth to a nation.
I hope to inspire architecture with a soul so pure, it rains tears of gratitude. Thank you for not hurrying in life, the angels would record our good deeds. I am subsumed by you. You are not my opposite or my mirror image. You are not my audience or my advocate. You are my balm and salve. You heal my broken skin. You are as intoxicating as dry red wine. You are where I end and begin.
With love,
Yeru
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