There were butterflies, and
And there were zoos too,
A bucket of feelings, all for you.
And the honey-drop kisses
You trailed upon my neck
The promises you whispered
As my skin quenched your thirst;
Of silent vows, and seeking thrusts
In the nook of moans that rent the night mum
Oh my darling, how we loved.
Your red coloured roses
My acryllic poetry;
The blanket of miracles that laced your finger-tips–
but my darling, how you broke me
And my darling, how you loved me.
“The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, in spite of ourselves.
© The Short Black Girl, 2016.