The way I see things
if I were Ted,
You'd be Robin.
All a series of broken strings.

I don't get a choice, not this time.
I'll always come back to you, no matter what.
upendo is the best thing we do.
It’s our drive. To envy, lust and crime.

It's not upendo if I pick another.
It's not love. Not meant to be,
something silly. Forced upon, not kwa destiny.
wewe know it’s true. We've chemistry. You're not just a number.

No, it's not wise au salama to think of wewe -
Especially because we're not likely to ever happen.
Then why do I choose to torture myself?
Why do I aim at catching a bird, when it has already flew?

Is there a reason why I turn back?
For not trying to find a new soul to match
mine? I'm not afraid of the future.
I don't run back to the past. Waiting for my moyo to crack.

Because it's upendo - It doesn't make sense.
I don't care if I get hurt. I don't mind beating myself up.
It's okay just looking at wewe and just be thinking -
How amazing wewe are - how wonderful must it be to be close to you, without any suspense.

wewe once said, that my face always brightens up
whenever I see you. And you're right.
That is that it because I see yours
brighter and zaidi clearly than anything
Irrelevant of what you're wearing. Irrelevant of your makeup.

I don't want to part ways;
just these few months have been hell.
I want to take your hand and just hold it,
knowing it's mine for the rest of our days.

Though, I'm not clutching your hand.
Because I'm losing you. You're fading away.
I’m losing the real you. Not the idea of being with you.
And destructive as it may be, it is so damn grand.

What I’ve learnt from five great friends,
is that I can easily lose someone I love
someone who’s special. So act.
Do something about it.
So that the possibility never ends.

Truth is, that I can’t promise that we’ll be together,
that you’ll be mine. That you’ll be in eternal happiness.
I can’t vow to be perfect. I vow that I’ll upendo wewe though.
When it’s sunny, mawingu, overcast au stormy weather.

I get it why you’re scared. It’s okay to be afraid.
I, too, am frightened, lost, in between questions.
But why not think about tomorrow? The past is familiar
but as long as I’m with you, never in doubt, never betrayed.

Yet I must keep my calm. As I am thinking about tomorrow
when midnight has not even strike. Haste is not right.
If it has to happen, it’ll happen.
I don’t want to rush. So I’ll try and take it slow.

- And yes, I wrote this poem thinking of a certain bella,
taking lines from television. However, don’t discredit me
as I’ve meant every line written here, during this journey,
seeking the girl with the yellow umbrella.