Joubert Loots
By
Samuel Ayoade
The Love I Never Knew
would it not be madness
to say I’m in love with imagination?
the heartfelt breath that appears
in the shallow snores of my dreams
upon my stone-pillow at bethel.
I have seen hearts melt for beauty
and feet slid for virtues
but all I got lost to, is a breeze
in the shallow thoughts of my imagination
somewhere in the plains of Abia
which spread over the valleys of my brain –
a folktale of my nightmares.
I have heard of penpals, and pen friends
on blank sheets of empty promises
on papers that hold the liquid state of the future
but I have jilted Cupid
and stolen from him – a Pen Love –
this again, is madness.
tell me, are you short and stumpy?
long and slender, white or black?
I have lost my heart to believe a lie
in the presence of sanity, I have chosen madness
and say, “art thou a manly creation or just a breeze?”
and
I ask,
“is Cupid stupid?”
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