I’m yearning for the enchantress; the
other woman
The one with bright pink lipstick and
Black manicured nails
The woman currently in tears!
The other woman with a fringe hairstyle
like that of Cleopatra
Like on powerful opium, that is the
one I’m craving for
The one who sits lonely by her window
Hoping to hear my baritone voice
drenched in reverb.
The one who is always waiting for me
To warm her up like a baby sleeping
in a basket afloat the cold seas.
Have been staring in this hourglass
for an hour
Waiting for he who owns tunic of
different colours
The one that walks gently on the
corridors of my heart
The one that has touched the night in
my thighs
His voice is like croon of the early
morning black wheatear
His presence is felt bare on my lips
Whenever he pass by my window sill
I wait for him to raise his hands up
Lift his voice high just to dizzy me
for a second
I hope he listen and hears my silence
whenever I fail to wave back
My heartbeat increases when I see the
other woman
She always stay fresh waiting for me
to knock on her door
Waiting for me to say the very words
she wants to hear
To move her thighs at night and
excite her beyond an unholy pleasure
Raise her hair up and kiss her till
her pink lipstick is all gone
The other woman wears a French
perfume
With a high hopes that like a dog I
can smell her from afar.
I’m holding a rose; I hope she sees
that it was meant for her
Will it ever be that the other woman,
like me,
Will grow old and never have true
love to keep warm?
He brought white roses, delicately
beautiful
From the symmetry in his smile, I
knew who it was for
My heart sunk into the abyss of my
soul when
I saw a chariot of white roses doused
in perfume in front of my door
This man that has claimed me with his
unspoken words and gestures
He beckons every passion in me, a
deja vu I know perfectly well
But no, I am not falling into this
trap again
You see, love is a war that drowns you in a dungeon of
misery when it taste sour and the table turns
No! I don't want to be a tragedy, I
will watch and inhale these flowers every morning
And as it wilt so is my heart
dwindling.
I stand at her door with my hand
ready to knock
Ready to capture her with my
attention
Ready to place her above the apex of
my love pyramid
Watch, kiss and love her till the
world is no more
But what if, I knock and she does not
answer?
What If I call for her and she walks
out of my sight?
What if I offer her my love and all
what she sees is mere rugs
What if she sees in me a mere
acquaintance
I stood there subjecting my thoughts
to probability and chance
After all what do I stand to lose?
Uncertain, my hands touched the door
Today as I watched his blossoming
gift in the chariot
I saw a blue white dove singing a
melodious ode.
Every time I see this, it reminds me of my beautiful
stranger and how am tenderly beginning to love, love again
I don't want to fall in love
silhouette and unable to stand again
But slowly I’m tripping
I'm falling in the moisture of his
affection
Willing to bury him deep in my
Bermuda triangle.
I'm filled with illusion of his all
and the smile hidden in his eyes
Oh the sight of him a glory to behold
The sound of a knock brings me back
to reality,
He's calling me in his baritone
Oh he's coming for me, or is it one
of my illusions again
His baritone liped my name once again.
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