Honeycomb

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I WONDER……

Do twilight girls feel any chills

As they click glasses here and there

Do they dread the hour

When the steams get high and smokies fully turgid

Do they miss a step in their cowy boots

That carry their curtain just enough skirts

wherever such guts are harnessed……….

why is it that sweat never tickles down their chins

As the angry lion lifts up its head to roar

Is their smirk covered by their smiles?

And those crimson red lips and pinky tongues….

They suck up all the sewage in old and new drains

Cleaning clean all the chimneys like rugs

Even when it rains and smoke is dripping down

They let it flow down and down their throats

As if throwing up hasn’t appeared in their diction

As if their noses know no stink

I cannot help but wonder

How deep are their sewage drains??????

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The wait

I let you go but still silently my heart moans

Am bitter not because i hate you but because

I don’t want anyone else to have you

Because deep down i know that you are mine

Verily has  tears you shed for me blinded you

That you prefer to toss yourself to the wind

That whatever kite flying by may carry you

I prefer to think that time is just not ripe;

To heal all wounds

For mine is to pay the price of patience

 Until when  this dying light finally embers

For i know that it is only then that

Yours arms shall open for my embrace

And your lips for the warmth of my mouth

For ours love is great and greater is its price!!!IMG_201704106_091236

 

 

Blooming

When I was one and three

I set out for an adventure without trees

My desert grew shrubs that made me uneasy

Then there were this mountains on my plateau

And this curves on my road, I wasn’t plain too

My skin begun to glow, I became fairer

I could drawn a pair, surely God couldn’t have been more fair

I ignored the chirpy birds and listened to the voice of thunder

And when temperatures rose, sweat tickled down there making me shudder

I developed a craving for milk that only poured from a straw

This burning desires made me curious

But I knew it was injurious

Because my mama said it was suicidal

To let a boy smell my petal

Now I am two and three

And I know not how to pluck a tree

He claims he doesn’t believe it

He claims time befits

Should I lend him my petal? 

Should I let him pedal?