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I Was Once Beautiful

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  Around the fire, she was a mural; looked down the flames:           Girls, this is your bodies,           consumes everything it touches— When she looked up, I wondered if gods would ever kill her—she was all seeing:           Sit like a girl,           and I scissored my legs closed. Yet, you are water; between your legs, a fountain           life and death in bed,           a river men swim upstream           and drown downstream. Grandma! I’d scream.           The glaucoma in her eyes didn’t hide her disappointment with me,           She’d move her hands to her face, her fingers to catch tired tears … * At fifteen, my chest was a minaret calling men to worship;           fire burnt from the pit of my stomach, hot coals           and I forgot her words— Educated girls fetch bigger dowry,           Uneducated is an oppressed wife           But stay in school long enough; the market is cruel to you. And I quit:           I was an egg in their hands, each t

A Song of Water and Fire

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  When I first met him, he was a wanderer, gypsy           his eyes thirsty           and his body fire— When I first saw her, she was a wonder, water           to put out fire. The fountain between my legs dripped, gushy           from the same spot of a leaking roof. Photo by John Rocha from Pexels.com Fire burnt from the pit of my stomach, hot coals           and I knew I had a home. You will never wander anymore, Gypsy, I told him. Between her legs, she was patchouli: earthy and musky smell,           sweet yet smoky, a balance of sweetness and romance—           and for the rest of the night, I tasted her tanginess. Keep it that way, I told him and put out the fire. Image by 0fjd125gk87 from Pixabay

To My Daughter

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  We men never stop for women we are always on the move going somewhere else:           on to our next conquest,           a tighter squeeze,           a new adventure— Our heads staring at the noon sun like the breasts of a virgin at fifteen.   Image by  Layers  from  Pixabay   One day you are a raw egg in the palms of our hands, The other day we squeeze           Just a little Until your shell cracks,           Just a little Until your juices run,           Just a little Until they stain our shoes,           Just a little But you are a shell now— Shattered. Forever.   Your body that was once bubbling with life is beyond. You watch, crying through the lock Round the clock we men walk away Jacket tails slapping over our ass(holes) Go somewhere else To carry another egg. Photo by Nathasha Daher: https://www.pexels.com/photo/woman-leaning-on-window-2860381/

I Go Home

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Image by Andrea Baratella from Pixabay I go home and make love to my wife thinking of another wife in another life who is not like her but ... I go home to her. I tell all the others that I wish I had met them before I met my wife a new meaning they give my life— pillow-talk with no meaning— but ... I go home to my wife. They are not mean; They get what I mean, Believe only they love me the way I deserve My sanity they preserve But ... I go home to my wife.

The Love We Give

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  Welcoming them to the darkest hole in my heart Stretched arms with fisted hands Heart-killer who cares not: Death is eternal. We love Rolling the sweet nothings with tongues That neither care, nor Care to care The lies maim to kill. We make love Drinking from unwashed cups Tounged kisses sucking the air; Kisses with no love Only fire to consume our souls to eternal hell, The love only external.

Breaking Another Heart

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I got another girl She adores me Believes every sweet nothing I utter Fantasising of the transcendental melding of our souls: Poor girl J'st another conquest. I am breaking another heart and I know it; She doesn't know I lie with dilated pupils. When I tell her to be careful of people whose pupils dilate when they lie she doesn't believe my truth “Come with me.” She thinks it's an invitation; She'll cry through the lock round the clock Wondering why I left.

She is Afraid of Love

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  She is afraid of love           that requires making           when she is licked           and wet Locks click           and the door to her womanhood closes. The pain is a sword,           tears asunder the pleasure She cries her heart and soul           and her brain shuts To beg God for forgiveness—           she strayed when she met me           her beautiful devil. She vows never ever to sin again           until the next time she longs for it.