Patrick Ambani Photography 4

Of Life Through Her Eyes.

She called me last night,
she told me to listen to you, I did.
you cupped her breasts
you carved her hips with your hands
stamped your lips on her flesh
you flipped her this way and that way,
this way and that way!
you blessed her thighs with your plunge-again and again,
your manhood alive for her-Inside Her.
I heard you growl hungrily
I heard her cheer for you
I heard the both of you ignite a fire.
sitting numb on our bed
I held your  pillow tightly,
wishing to be her-the other woman.

I saw her with you,
she is a sight to behold
her dress draws a perfect rear
her breasts perky and ripe
and her legs tower unmatched,graced by her red heels.
pretty, just like me before today,
with my missing waist
south bound breasts
with my nursery of brown hair once long and silky
and storky kikuyu legs.

I went out today,
walking in town I saw you at the Norfolk
fighting with shiny forks
her red lip stick painting the edges of those shinny glasses
you too looked happy
her manicured nails have never played with soil
I could tell from her delicate palms-She has never scrubbed your jeans
I twisted the wedding band on my cracked finger,
wishing to be just like her.

My Love, I will try
I have bought red bra and red underwear
I have sucked in my rolls of stomach
you will find me lying on the bed
my buttocks will be on the air
my wig will flow to my breast
just like the girls in the music videos.
I beg you to take me,
to love me,
to own me,
to growl on me, like you do her.

And you woman,
do not be fooled
there was a time, before I screamed forth a generation from my womb,
when my breasts saluted the world
my hips run softly with no edge
and the well between my thighs …and the well between my thighs…
fresh spring it was,fit to size…my husband’s size,
now,
I have nothing to show save for the laughter in my house
when you call me mother, I stand with with pride
when you call me wife, my heart will bleed but I will stand tall to be counted
the round metal strangling my finger
invites me to remind you,
He may plant his flesh in you
He may wine and dine you
He may sing for you
but a day comes when he will write you off in a note;

“Dear mpango wa kando I can’t continue to see you anymore,
I’m going back to my wife
I’m going back to she whose love is pure
She who has stood by me through thick and thin
She who is taking care of my kids
You are just but a passing wind
Which brings with it heavy clouds that never bring rain!
Through the tears in my wife’s eyes
I see the love inside her heart”

You wait.

Patrick Ambani Photography

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