An Ode for your Love

The first day I saw you; the very first day I set my scouting, evaluative and superior eyes on you, what I saw was different from what I see now; the simply dressed, unassuming, seemingly malnourished figure about whom nothing was probably spectacular was who I saw. On that occasion what I felt was different, my head leaped but my heart was as cold as though nothing had happened. I can remember the exact item that sparked up these reactions- that old brown-colored wrist-band which had imprints of the longings of my head, no wonder it leaped. It was as though the usual task had come for the mind, a task so simple but yet so difficult. I felt I was on familiar ground, little did I know that the waters in which I confidently went fishing were uncharted.

Looking back I ask: how could I have missed your eyes? Those round lovely conspicuous heart robbers that pierce deep down and stir the stagnant waters within? How could I have missed your voice? That innate background melody that leaves a score in the mind’s ears? How could I have missed your smile? Which conveyed some deep interior joy across space and time, stretching forth from the cage that is your heart and touching the very receptors of pleasure? How could I not have noticed your captivating physique, looking beyond every deformity or defect of nature which in themselves add to the peculiarity of your beauty? How could I have missed the feel of your skin, with its perfect texture and well-patterned distribution of seductive features? I wonder, how could I have missed the You I see now?


And so to my own dismay, I was caught, by surprise, in Love’s dreaded trap. Thinking I was in control. Unawares, I was injected with Love’s deadly poison. It crept in slowly and seized my very heart and caused it to once again leap. My heart leaped like it had never done before, leaped out to you but alas it was never caught. Growing up I did hear of Sweet Sorrow, yet I had no idea what it was until now; loving someone terribly and at once hating that you do. If only my head had not leaped, if only it was cold and probably dead and my heart took its place. If only you saw a heart that was willing to know you, love you and serve you, if only you saw a heart big enough to accommodate you with much comfort, if only when you look at me you saw my heart and not my head, if only.
I spend hours fantasizing, about thoughts that can never be. The pleasure alone of the thought of you cuddled up tightly in my arms, and the feel of your textured skin on mine in that gentle sweeping motion, the sound of your voice unceasingly trickling down my ears, the feel of your soft red lips on my cold skin devoid of the warmth of love, the noise of deeper waters raging when those piercing eyes are eternally set on mine with maximum affection, the smile on your face which lights multiple bulbs of pleasure, of when we would never let go of each other, and wrapped up in love’s ecstasy we would be as though one, and with powerful words I would sing to you, love songs that last forever, of when your delight would be my companionship, when your heart speaks to mine and when mine yours, and the only words they would speak are words of love.
Now I wish I could meet you over again, then I’d start with inferior eyes and a subjective gaze, and I would put my heart before my head, I would look into your eyes and show you love like you’ve never known since you took on flesh, then you might love me as much as I do you, you might want to go out with me, you might find fun in the sound of my voice, in the nature of my eyes and in the texture of my skin, then you may unlock that cage that is your heart and welcome the gift I offer; my very self.
Don’t get me wrong, none of this is your fault, you have done nothing to deserve my love, nothing but being you. So, though you probably would neither go out of your way to catch a grenade for me, nor would you live your life even partly for me, though you would most likely not die for me and you really do not love me as much as I do you,  I love you, and inasmuch as I want to, I don’t want to lose you.



Author: Chibuzor F. Ogamba

Chibuzor F. Ogamba is a Nigerian Medical Student, Writer, Poet, Blogger, Public Speaker and Catholic Apologist

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