Her beauty makes me shiver,
a quiet quake beneath my skin,
the kind that steals words
before they ever reach my lips.
Even if I told her I love her,
what would love become
when my bank account cannot carry me
across skies to where she breathes?
So my heart learns a cruel comfort—
to love deeply,
yet accept I will never have her.
My heart cries at night,
then wipes its own tears,
knowing some dreams are meant
only to be felt, not held.
Those who see her up close,
who hear her laugh without distance,
they are the richest souls on earth,
owning moments I can only imagine.
When she dances,
my heart forgets its limits.
I tremble, wanting to ask her
for a simple favor—
a date, a moment, a chance—
but my courage dissolves
into admiration.
Her beauty tangles my thoughts,
turns my heart into poetry
I am afraid to speak aloud.
Still…
I want to love her,
even from afar,
even in silence,
even if love is all I am allowed to keep.
Themba T Twala III
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