Loose Talk.

What pulse drives you? Is it ambition, is it fear? Is it desire? What is it? Is it love?
Something has to be fuelling your fire, or else your flame will burn out.
And please don’t tell me your life runs on solar. Just don’t.

For you I know, clearly know; it is love, I can see it on your lips, I can see it in your eyes.
That glow on your skin tells one thing, you are neck deep in that shit that is love.
It must stink, doesn’t it? Oh, you can’t smell that, can you? Love numbs all senses remember.

I’ve been stalking you for eons now, and guess what;
You’re weird, he’s weird too.
You’re an idiot, he is too.
Okay, you’re real and so is he.
Don’t get me wrong. You two are special.

They say, to be in love is to be anchored in the safest anchorage and I can see you’ve really landed bulungi.
I can see the intensity of your feelings, your emotion of being, that passion, that self-surrender. They’ll Mollis you!
The love you’ve got isn’t Romeo and Juliet, isn’t Abelard and Heloise either; it certainly isn’t the imagination of countless poets, it’s Kampala love, it’s real love. Street Love.

Tell me you don’t keep his undershirts on.
I hear you sleep in his large T-shirts.
I’ve seen you kiss on the sidewalks from work.
You kiss more than you hug. To think you used to fist bump.
He now smells like your favourite perfume and you, his.

Late night calls. Frequent calls. A distended call log.
Imagine one chat, his chat is always above the ever vibrant Whatsapp group chats.
One word sentences for others, paragraphs and essays for that one chat.

I can smell love even in the filthiest of sewers.
And what you guys have is love love, it’s affection love, might even be sex love.

They say, only sex love can create the homogeneity, equality and reciprocity between two persons and drown egoism.
I can see the way you relate.
You girl, you must have seen each other already, unravelled things hitherto hidden in laces and all.
You must have eaten each other already, yes.

Remember the bruises, the other time, now I know they were bite marks.
What! So who is Dracula now?
Or have you been in a WWE fight ish with him, 12 rounds; no knockout.
I know, if there’s a drop of love in sex, 12 rounds isn’t a hard ask.
You know with love sex, it is said over and over again; means insatiable participation in the existence of the loved.
12 not out? Wow. You guys are great. Deserve a medal

By the way, Love is blind for those in the realm of love.
Had you noticed that you two were holding hands for more than 10 minutes instead of downing your beers?
Aha. Anyway, I’m happy for you. Nice hair by the way, where did you do it from? I want.

A girl talking to a girl, about a boy who is in love with a girl.

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Gregor Cresnor

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