I look at you, when I look at you,
When you shift, I check on you,
When you close your eyes, I cover you,
So that a threatening wind will not disturb your membrane,
Only you can keep me awake,
I feel your breath in measured rhythm,
I see what your hand protects,
For what is this life without continuity?
Your sadness does not make me sad,
Rather, I am spurred to feed your soul, to save you,
Just because, I love you,
Yes, I can feel your heartbeat,
Your saintly face lie plain, in oblivion, and oblivious,
Before I sleep, I ask God to protect you from flood, from thunder and mostly from earthquake,
So that I'll bear witness again to this love in morrow that will surely come,
I do not wait for a return of love because, true love is truly not selfish,
However, I have claimed my love for in loving you, I love myself,
If not, whereto fore would I know how to love you.
But I've found out I no longer love you,
I do not love you because of your culture,
If I love your culture, I would hate you,
That culture has hidden parts,
It does make a heart speak less,
I must enjoy in solitude or burning desire if I love your culture.
Have you not seen the invention, the â€˜midnight expresses?
A man engages an agent and plans his disappearance,
When everywhere is in dark, world covered in sleep,
He slips out to another city, simple disappear,
Because of an unpaid debt,
If I take to that culture, it's same for you and me,
So, why do I love you?
I don't even know,
If I know, I'll feel you've giving it all,
So, I prefer not to know,
Except, that I love you.
Patrick Nwadike is a member, writers cave, Tokyo.