It was getting heavy here... so here Van Dam dancing

A love letter to my home village Kasane.

Dear Favorite place. I'm coming home in december. It has been four years but I remember the way the green of the north is different from the green of the south. The air is cooler up there right at the corner of Botswana. My dad called today and said " Hi pumpkin, I'm in the middle of nowhere right in that corner of Botswana" and I knew he was almost home. And I know its 1000 Kilometers of not quite so tarred road. And just 45 minutes of flight away. But I'll take the long way. So I can see it outside my window as I get closer. You see just after francistown you can't really tell. But right after Nata the worst part of the road you can tell you're in the Chobe. You can smell it in the air. You can see it in that northern Green you Don't get anywhere else. And you can see it in the white sands. By now the elephants have come to play. I can always tell ...

Dear Captain Fantastic,

They're a number of love stories I've told but never ours. It's my favorite one. Its the only one that ends without a sour taste in my mouth. The only one I still pray for. I pray for you. Did you know? Do you ever hear my prayers? I pray the way mother's pray for their children and women pray for their husbands. Prayer is a woman's best firearm is something my mother says. I don't think she meant for me to use all my Ammo protecting you. I don't think she meant for me to pray for you so hard. But, I find sanity in knowing that even in the moments when I choose myself over loving you God will love you for me. In the moments when you would look to me look to him. I'm not nearly responsible to hold your heart in my hands without dropping it. I fear I already have, but I want you to know. All these years later, All these boys later, ' All these scars later, there's not a smile in the world that warms my heart more than yours....

WITHERING ROSES

We're like withering roses me and you. This relationship isn't big enough for the both of us. It’s sad that some people suffocate in love or somewhere between it. Someone asked me what being in love feels like. I can't remember. All I remember is the consuming fear of losing you. Remind me darling. I hate it when scars fade. That's when I forget all the burns, cuts and bruises. That's when I fall into your arms, forgetting that their safety once suffocated me. That you once wept as you watched your too tight grasp leave me gasping and clawing at you. Too selfish and scared to let go just a little. They won't stop asking why I won't leave you. I've resolved to answering, "I'm a poet. What would I write about if not being in love with a man that thinks I'm pathetic" But we both know it’s nice to come back and be a mess again. I told you you're a lucky man. I didn't tell you I'm a lucky woman too. Ma...

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