Dear Murugi

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Dear Murugi, It’s 5:40 am in the morning. I’m thrilled by the glowing aurora along the horizon while I stare at the morning star. Hold Me While You Wait by Lewis Capaldi is playing on repeat mode. I think of you, I think of us and how we would’ve been and I laugh.

I gave you my heart. You took it on a rollercoaster; rose, fell, twisted and turned my heart, and raced it like a dying engine. Did you forget my fear of heights is severe? You were there for the adrenaline, weren’t you?  Even so, I was still afraid to choose myself.

I gave you forever. You gave me a month. In a fortnight, I stumbled upon letters addressed to Titi and I found myself. I gave up on us instantly, on you, what we would’ve had and I couldn’t wait for a month you gave.

As I caressed through the pages of letters addressed to Titi, I wondered how a man who never knew you could paint a perfect picture of you and what could’ve been possibly awaiting me meticulously. There and then, I chose myself. I left you before you decided to leave.

Murugi, love lies. I’ve lived to lie to myself innumerable times I loved you. See, a lie told repeatedly is perceived to be true. Truth hurts and I hate it. 

Someday, I pray when you’re all alone in your smoky snug crib smoking Marijuana, memories we lost will creep in like a maggot into a rose to slip away your brief state of absolute euphoria.

Sammy Wanjala


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