Nqubeko chase Sithole Poems

I still loved you but couldn't be with you.
I couldn't be with you because I had to leave you
I had to leave you because I had found someone I really love
I had found someone I truly love so I had to leave you.
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Take me back to where it all began
Take me back to the first of where we ran
Take me back to Africa, where I see the diverse culture's falling in love
With their beautiful difference's.
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She stood like it was her last pose
She smiled like it was her last beautiful thing she had.
Her sharp eyes towards the camera ‘'I smile''
It was her confidence behind the pictures.
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As the sun sets and the moon rise,
Our eyes begin to see clearer
Our ears become fluent, ''as it plays''
We begin to dance to it.
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HER TEARS
They run in the mist of her eyes.
When she cries, they become very dark.
They never match with sunrise; neither do they match with sunset.
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It's louder than your voice when you call me
It's louder than your love when it called me the first time
This silence is like heat in my heart that shadrack, MIshack and Abednego couldn't burn in because it's too attached to the way I feel and think about
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Spare me the lectures, I've had enough.
I've talked, no one heard me
I've laughed; no one could see it's not real
I've had enough, I just want to die.
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A definition of diary is complex and excessive
I compare it to the definition of love and life
(Someday it will end) .
Aurora's diary was thick and beautiful but full of sad and miserable thoughts,
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Dear Cecile, our dream is finally coming out in the evening
It has always been enclosed by these dark nights and small brains.
We've been waiting almost our whole life and might have waited until it never came.
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What if the lights went off, would we be still able to see each other? What if I stopped talking to you, would you be still be able to tell me you love me? What if I stopped loving you, would you be still able to tell me you love me? What if I stopped singing to you, would you still want to make love to me? What if I died tonight, would you still love in the morning? What if I decided not to die, would you stay with me forever?

U remind me of the women in poetry, I love them, I love them. They cry deep into their souls and execute the thought of love. They express their pain in tears while they recite and continue to recite. They shout out so that their voice will be heard, and they smile because they have said what they wanted to say. Their skin changes with mixed emotions, ohm, how I love them. They think deeper than the ocean, visualise higher than the sky. They are deep, "I love them". They show poetry in a form of heaven, sort of a religion.
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