Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
(For A.K.)

With her aesthetic psalms carved in this skin of mine
Readily healed with the balm she speaks
I gather courage to fight back my wanting desire
To see her again
When she leaves
I reopen the wounds
To revive pleasurable painful memories
Of her sharp beauty
Cutting deep.
Laughter, tearing through me like
Confetti on her personal new year
Her dancing is confection
Her smile, even sweeter
She doesn't age, she turn the page.
I can no longer conceal or restrict my praise
After all, it is her I worship on her holiday.
-
Ifeanyi N. Okoro II © 2018
Open the heavens and send down the rain
I want to taste you again
The decadent dreams and palatable Proverbs
Your voice rings truer than Solomon’s Songs
An inscription of your heart’s psalms burn onto palms
I want to embrace your change
From cool lateral attitudes of a sabbatical frame
Or the temper aflame via fire-tempered steel from whence it came
Those eyes buried and carried luster of a pharaoh’s tomb exhumed
Laughter and sighs prying open my covenant to not be lured in by these such riches
I sacrifice sleep daily to alter my altar for you
Yes,
There is a such thing as God in the form of your skin
I send praises in kisses
Hoping not to betray your inhibitions
No Judas Iscariot
But I lay before your garden
Gethsemane, gently I speak in tongues
For I hope not yet to be crucified in your love
Before resurrecting ***** before your sunrise
Amen

Ifeanyi N. Okoro II © 2015

— The End —