You asked me to write you a love song
instead, I composed you a symphony to capture your indelible spirit
Woodwinds like morning whispers, soft breaths on the nape of my neck
soothing
warm
Strings like lovers’ hands, plucking gently at loose lashes, fingering my heartstrings
doting
pensive
Percussions like myocardial infarctions,
intermittent heartbreaks
wailings
sombre ululations
rising in tandem with each kiss on the
chest
cheek
lips
the knowledge that each one precedes your imminent departure
you begged me to write you a love song
to immortalize you when you ceased to be
when you could no longer come back to me
Tshepi Makhatha enjoys long walks down deserted streets.