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??????
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!!!
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?