It’s been 2 months, 3 days and 10 hours since i last saw you, but it seems longer.
Every weekend I sit in that spot where we met at the bar counter and imbibe that dark cold beer as i watch football and sometimes rugby.
I usually leave when i’m tipsy so i just grab a rolex and sleep, but this is the time you normally text me about how your day was.
During the weekdays, i slave away, days and nights, doing various projects, perfection has to be achieved and it requires more time.
But when i text you about it, all that weary blood oozes out.
I trust your opinion on most issues, because i know it’s for the best of us. Sometimes we even hate on people together, something very coincidential.
So on this lazy sunday, sipping coffee and listening to Kfm’s Easy Sunday (they really play smooth music). I thought i would attempt a love letter since i never did while in high school cause i was the shy guy who couldn’t approach a girl.
If i didn’t respond to any of your texts during those nights i mentioned earlier, don’t worry, I wasn’t consummating with another female.
And to why i bother you with most of my personal issues i rarely share with anyone, that can only be answered by an extract of Lionel Richie’s “I call it love”
“Maybe I don’t know what love is, maybe i’m a fool
I just know what i’m feeling and it’s all because of you
Don’t tell me I don’t, I want the truth. Cause they call it, we call it, you call it, I call it love”