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My lips curved into a smile as I watched her. I studied her facial features closely, features that I knew by heart and could in a well depicted manner, divulge its essential contours.

I gently rubbed my hand across her face. My index finger rubbed the corners of her lips that were smeared with ruby-wool lipstick.

I touched her dimples and kissed her eyes that were emboldened with courage. I thought of her laughter; that sharp, croaky laughter of hers that seemed unladylike and showed off her perfect dentition.

Quietly and gently, I bent over and sealed my love for her with a kiss. I felt the smooth-woolly texture of the canvas on my lips and the memories of May 5th, the night Munachi died from a ghastly accident were conjured up in my mind.

Smiling with eyes made glassy with tears, I whispered, “I Love You” to the portrait of Munachi.

Written by Hilary

About shakespeareanwalter

Walt Shakes(@Walt_Shakes) is an award-winning Nigerian writer, poet and veteran blogger. He is a lover of the written word. the faint whiff of nature, the flashing vista of movies, the warmth of companionship and the happy sound of laughter.

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One comment

  1. Tragic

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