By Wataka Damah Dew

I know your favourite spot,
Yes under the tree that grows over that wall
I have stalked you occasionally
You like sitting alone
Head bent, almost touching your raised knees
You scribble a lot
I imagine it to be poetry
Or diary entry,
There seems to be a lot on your mind.

I like how you smell
You passed by me the other day
And your perfume rubbed onto my sweater
I spent the whole night reliving that moment
I wish I had the courage to say hi

Your eyes sparkle beneath those thick framed glasses you wear,
Your eyes radiate a kindness so warm
They are inviting,
Sincere, pure.

I love your kinky hair
The many tricks you do with it,
The hats and bands,
They really make you look beautiful,
Your dresscode captivates my mind,
They define you in the most splendid of ways.

I love your smile,
And your height,
The fact that we wear the same kinds of shoes,
And always have earphones hanging around our necks,
I love that you are silent and mysterious,
I bet there is so much we can share with each other,
I think you struggle like I do,
Physically, emotionally, spiritually,
And you are just trying to go by life without the simplest clue about tomorrow,
That would really bring you closer to me.

Honestly I like everything about you,
But I cannot dare tell you all this,
My thoughts and feelings,
They are evil and intolerable,
The worst sort of sin,
You will probably run away scared if I told you these,
No, I will just sit and write this in my diary,
Like I saw you doing,
I will share this secret with myself,
And hope that one day, even in the next life, I shall get to at least say hi,
See you smile,
Probably shake your hand, if I am lucky,
Maybe then these feelings will leave me…

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