robbin nyakundi enigma Poems

Tell me am I wrong to hunger for the gentle touch of my lady's hand.
Am I wrong to thirst for the weight of her head on my bare chest?
Tell me yee knowledgeable ones
Why you deem it unjust the craving I have for the gentle feel of my handmaid's seasoned skin.
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What is left? A wounded heart,
A frustrated mind…a troubled conscience
When we have said our goodbyes
And the dust is yet to settle.
...

I will walk away....
From everything bitter in the bitter sweet of life...
I will no longer be soft of heart and timid of mind...
No more will I be pulled and tagged like a kitty cat...
...

Clouded thoughts…my dilapidated mind ponders on the could have been of my era…
The many times I had the chance to shine in your light but gave it away to muck and dirt…
The countless times I almost confessed but held my tongue so that no words were sired…
The voices in my head…
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