Dear You,
I pray that all is well. This letter is sent to you in secret for I do not wish to kindle unwanted fires. I know it is probably surprising to receive a letter from me but I saw it best to communicate this way. You might want to burn these writings after you are finished reading. I see it fit that way.
My friend, Omwami, introduced you to me six months ago when you two became an item. I was happy for him; you two. I remember complimenting him on his achievement of wooing a beautiful woman like you. Men like to brag about their beautiful women. It’s a thing in us, I guess. And we like it when our friends have beautiful women.
He has been a jovial chap ever since your relationship begun. I want to imagine that you’ve been treating him as he would have wanted to by his dream woman. You and I know that he is a good man. Well, there are no really good men in this world but he is fairly a reasonable bloke. I’ve known him for close to four years now and if there is anything I admire in him then it is his loyalty to friendship. That is a man I respect.
Once in a while, I call you to ask how he is doing when I am unsure of his mind. You know it takes a woman to really know a man’s thoughts sometimes. And I appreciate the fact that you’ve always been kind to the idea of me caring for a brother during such moments and in such ways.
But things have been different in the last couple of weeks. You seem to have a fire burning inside you that is hidden from his eyes. I want us to be very frank with each other. I get uncomfortable with the way you look at me when the three of us are in one place with other friends. It’s like your eyes have a mouth and they try to whisper something to me; something that sounds sweet but very evil.
Lately, you have been sending me weird texts and calling me at wee hours of the night to ask how I’m doing. Well, my humble self will always answer you appropriately without making you feel awkward but it sickens me.
I commend the fact that you appreciate my poetry. As you say in our somewhat uncanny chats, my woman will be lucky. Yes, I will write her poems to the kitchen and toilet. I will write naughty things on her thighs and make sure ”I love you” sounds new each time I whisper it to her ears; throw a letter or two for her in between her busy weeks or stupid notes telling her how bad I think her weave is. Of course she’d hate me for that but you know love does not fear to be hated.
Well, I never intend to spark any flames inside you when I tell you such. But it seems they really get into you and you start imagining things. I do not draw water from a well that is not mine and that is not about to change any time soon. Last week you popped up at my house without notice claiming that you had come to check up on me. While I appreciated the kind gesture, my mind raised its eyebrows to mean that I read trouble. You wanted to prepare me a meal and wash my dishes? I want that for God sake, everyday if possible, but just not from you. I do not know where I’d run to if Omwami learns of such events. Nobody will listen to me. Nobody will believe that I meant no harm.
You are a beautiful woman. Not even the hottest of suns could change that. But I am loyal to my friends, and your Omwami is one of them. He’d die if he learns that you have a thing for me and I’m riding with the flow. I shall have degraded myself to the deepest of pits. I would wish that you keep the necessary distance so as not to further complicate matters.
I am a fire you do not want to play with, neither do I wish to burn for you. In the interest of chastity and the respect I have for both of you, please leave me alone.
Regards
Eric Onyango Otieno (Poet) .
