The Temporal Range in The Forever ft Kadali

Forever is in the Horizon. Photo by Bwojji

Please do read Kadali response before you read this.

Dear S,

I find it fascinating in this world things change so fast, and we have no desire to hold things a little longer. Not the eyes of a lover, or to moan a little longer. We are in haste for the next fix before the current has done its job.

A fix, a short cut to pleasure, a momentarily escape above the clouds before the sunrays hit your face, you drop; that’s what you crave, a fix to draw a moan out of your throat, but doesn’t let it escape your lips. A fix that keeps you high but not satisfied.

Forever is in the eyes of the one moaning, loudly, honestly, desirably. Whose body lifts up to make a crescent, then falls heavy like raindrop scattering dust. Forever is my fingers tips tracing little scars on your body that I would have spent a life time looking for, not that you have scars, that’s not what I mean.

My forever is not the want of commitment, but the temporal range of ecstasy you will cloth, and never want for more for mine is not a fix. But rather the lens in which you see all your dreams and yet not achieved. What dreams does one achieve in sex, apart from a story if not a reference point.

Its Monday, I saw you early in the morning. Walking like the walls are your friends, and light is but a runway for your legs. I want to taste you as the moon tastes the dusk.

There Lurks Desire ft Kadali

We bloom to die. Photo by Bwojji

To read this, read the note here.

Dear S,

Life is a series of mishaps: misfortune events that, when churned well like milk, they give butter.
Allow me to apologize, for the miscommunication on my end, and for being a sun that only gives a ray for just a second, not a full day.

I have been rethinking your proposal. Asking what is on the table, and what really matters. A year down the road will anything ever matter?

Life is too short to just do things fwaa, and not leave a mark that gives you a smile lasting longer to light up your night. I wonder, your offer, would it light up both our worlds, or its a bread crumble that leads to a hole devoid of light?

Reading your note, I can’t help but think about the insecurity laced within the words in a mountain of assurance directed to me. I wonder if you talking of me, or of yourself.
I have more words to say, but I would want to look into your eyes as I say them.

Maybe there, I will drawn in the dark pools in your iris. And maybe I will forget the hustle of the world, maybe for a time being. And thanks for the chocolate.

I got you cuffs, you seem to be a woman whose hands are to be restricted to know pleasure.

In the Valley I own the World ft Kadali

The wetness of the Lake

This is the response of her note.

Dear S,

It’s the sound of your name ringing out within these bones on a cold night such as this. It coates my lips as if it’s lipsticks you have applied. That red lipsticks you tend to lick off whenever I catch you looking at me. I wonder, how i would whisper your name? How would I say it when the wetness of a lake engulfes me, and the softness of clouds carrying the burn of the sun meet my desire?

It’s said, when a man stands up on a mountain, he sees the world than one who stands in the valley. I would rather be in your valley than to own the world with my eyes.

I read your note. I was rioted with every words my eyes followed, hoping at the end of your trail, there I will find you, warm and waiting.

I remember your eyes on me, those piercing eyes undressing me with a haste of a lioness chasing its prey. You bare it all in your eyes yet hide it deep with those thick tops and long skirts.
Is it a coldness you find when you look at me? Don’t I make Nile run through you like the lash lands of Busoga?
Oh I will farm your gardens, and I will own them.

At break tea, you hid among your friends and you made chit-chat with me, with eyes looking down at shoes, as if they held mirrors to see yourself in.

You, let’s go to the movies on Friday.

E.