Dear Inamorato, its me again..

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Image from Pinterest.

Part i: here.

My love…

This must be a surprise to you because I am sure you were not expecting me to write so soon. I am as surprised as you, but I wanted to share something important with you. The fear that has plagued, crippled and haunted me has lifted. The other reason I have decided to write to you could be my inability to love in moderation because my love is loud, my love is consuming and please, when you feel as if it is drowning you, just float.

Do you know I am no longer afraid? I no longer curl up in a ball after I try reassuring myself you exist. I am no longer consumed by fear by the thought of you being kind, being gentle and being a man after God’s heart. The thought of us going on road trips, listening to Zim Urban grooves and 90’s RnB, no longer feels silly. I no longer flinch at the idea of you staying true, loving me and pursuing me, even when my hands are wrinkled and my eyes are without sight. I no longer shake my head in defeat or sigh when I think men like you exist. Men who are willing to wait until marriage. I am reassured when I think of our first night together, how angels will sing for joy and His goodness. Of how we will put our hands up together and utter words we have never said before, praise and worship in itself as we become one. How that joy will linger in our eyes, as we tell our children about our first kiss, our first fight, our first house. The same joy that will remind us of how we are a love story handwritten by God himself.

Image from Pinterest.

I can almost see you, I can almost touch you, I can almost smell you. If I close my eyes a little tighter, if I stay still a bit longer and if I hold my breath a bit more, I can almost taste you. The thought of you holding my hand and crying as I bring half of me and half of you into the world, no longer makes my heart beat faster. It pacifies it and a warm feeling coddles it. You know the feeling you get when you think of me? When you see me laugh? When I sit with my legs around your waist, trace your jawline with my lingering fingers and I lean into k-, wait we are waiting. See, I am now comfortable thinking about you close to me. Looking into your eyes, brushing my thumb across your lips, kissing your nose. I do not know what you look like, smell like or the sound of your laughter, but you are so familiar like my mother tongue in a foreign land.

Image from Pinterest.

I can almost see you, I can almost feel you, but most importantly, I am almost ready for you.

Yours, Rudo.

Part iii: here.

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