The guy next door…

He was a writer, she was a lawyer
He fell in love with her beautiful eyes
And she fell in love with his beautiful lies
But of cupid, fate & karma, who was the liar?

Religiously, she followed, read and loved his blog
Their eyes often met in the hallway after his morning jog
He was built & tall, he seemed to have it all, except for a wife
She was diligent, independent and intelligent; the law was her life…

His days were spent feeding his muse
An unbound spirit, a soul unfamiliar with rules
No opportunity to party or travel, did he ever refuse
Truth be told, his hours could have been put to better use…

Life can be a tease
At just 28 she had three degrees
Lived by herself in her furnished apartment
And all he had was a talent, which barely paid his rent…

She was in her late twenties
And he was in his morning thirties
But her nights were empty, so unlike his
His were spent up typing late or out with buddies…

To her he was the guy next door
To him she was just a face he didn’t know
Considering his and hers were two distant circles
They never planned or hoped to meet, like two like poles…

On one long night
While idling on the internet
She gathered the guts to make contact
With this blogger whose posts she knew by heart…

Much to her delight, he also happened to be online
And his response came before she could even rest her wine
Her thread read, “Reading your words makes me feel they are mine.”
His read, “Thanks. Unfortunately like the words, the pleasure remains mine.”

A childish kind of excitement came over her
It’s as if with those few words, he had tickled her
Paying no attention at all to her now spilled over glass
She was glued to her monitor as if it were a lecture in law class…

Her response was, “Well, are you selfish with your pleasures?”
He laughed & typed, “Depends, how much can you spare of yours?”
She replied, “Of mine? I derive mine from reading works such as yours.”
“Then I guess in a way you’ve already had your fair share. I simply compose.”

Lost for words, a glaring monitor stared at her
All his responses were instant but somewhat distant
It was evident from his last message, that he was hesitant
She wanted to keep the conversation going, but words stalled her…

The next inbox was the bluntest statement a fan had ever sent him
A lot of compliments and advances had made their way to him
But this was no usual kind of fan, she sounded so like him
She said, “Would you let my mind kiss yours sometime?”

For a second he froze… A fan? With such prose?
Of all words, was it a coincidence it’s those she chose?
The tables turned, for once he was the one smitten by a fan
Replying to her last message took him sometime, he paused to plan…

Now she was getting tense, almost lost in suspense
She could not quite stand or understand the sudden silence
A minute passed, two, three, four, she was anxious for his response
She cleaned up her mess & refilled her glass, anxiety became impatience…

Eventually came his reply, he asked her, “How many minds can yours kiss?”
She was confused, for all her life she had never ever been this anxious
She was furious but curious; I waited for a response as simple this?
She thought to herself; he must be married. It’s just obvious…

Knowing the lawyer in her, she had to get to the bottom of this
She asked, “Is it that you have many minds or is yours afraid to kiss?”
This time he replied ASAP, “No it’s not, but my mind is a crowded place.”
She pondered on a comeback, “Crowded is perfect! No one will notice us.”

He said, “If you argue like this, I am scared to let you in.”
She said, “Don’t worry, if our minds do argue, I will let you win.”
Amazed at her eloquence he asked, “Are you a lawyer or also a writer?”
She offered, “Lawyers tell good lies, writers beautiful ones. Does it really matter?”

Without even knowing, he was falling for her mind
The conversation got deeper, all her thoughts were refined
He tried but couldn’t pretend, coz her advances were far from subtle
But her responses kept hinting she was the kind with whom he could settle…

Lost in intellectual intercourse
The two seemed to be rather oblivious
Of the fact that in a few it would be morning
And indeed it came, without invitation or warning…

The next day she got to work late
He also skipped a jog so they never met
Both of them couldn’t wait for later on at night
To get back to their reverie & endless cognitive debate…

That following night was rather different
She sent a message asking if he was available to chat
And instead of admitting he was up for it, it was his number he sent
Finally her nights had gotten purpose & life, she stayed up on phone all night…

The next day at work she received an SMS
It said; “So when do I next get to steal some of your voice?”
Chuckling she replied, “Tonight of course. But why not steal the source?”
He replied, “I’m guessing the only thing cuter than your voice must be your face.”

That next text lit her up. She behaved like a little girl all day
She smiled like a child, she felt wanted, naughty, and younger in a way
There she was thinking her prime had been wasted on bouts with younger men
Envied her girlfriends, not knowing next door is where the universe was hiding her gem…

Another text read, “Do you like black forest?”
That evening after work, she did not head home straight
She had agreed to meet with him over coffee, it was their first date
And guess who she met? It was him. The guy from the hallway; the guy next door…

By
Th’ KlaFella™

Kidron Nabende Googo (theklafella.tumblr.com | facebook.com/TheKlaFella)

Written by Kidron KlaFella

I'm the king of my mind and the prince of my time. Master of my thoughts and judge of my conscience. To my ambitions, this body is a slave.

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#muwadopoem- We, the countryside women