would you?

Would you cry if I left earth and decided to stay in heaven
or wherever they chose to keep me?
Would it hurt to only see me in your dreams and seeing my arms hang from the sides of my body
knowing how perfect they once fit you,
how they once swallowed you
and trapped you in the depths of my bosom,
that you preferred to drown than to breathe?
How much would it hurt if you called for me and I never came
yet you hear the echoes of my tone behind every strangers voice, the sounds you once chose to ignore?
Would you cry for me if I left and never returned?
Would you weep for me if I wasn't here anymore?
Would your sun continue to shine?


I am not a Saint
I am just a girl who tastes heaven
every time your lips touch hers.

Not at all a god
just a girl who falls in love everyday
with every fragment of your soul.

Faraway from immortality
just a soul, who has risen from the dead,
everytime your eyes meet hers


“the point of it all”

Let you and I talk about that point,
retrace our hearts to that very second,
where you realised you desired me more than you fancied life,
that moment when you yielded your entirety  into the precariously shaky palms of my hands
knowing how capable I am of breaking you
the point that lived beyond faith
where you stood on the edge of my second chance.



Never to be seen again,

Never to be felt again,

Perhaps to slip a million minds

as quickly as death leaves its preys.

But I was here

I lived to tell the miraculous tale

Of life in this generation




You tell them
"Just be yourself"
yet you remain lost behind that filthy fa├žade

So please tell me,
what’s better between your deceptions and shams?
possibly you've reached the equilibrium
between your false truths

maybe you are trapped in between
the threads of your unspeakable reality

Poor wanderers, if only they knew,
that your wisdom is as imaginary as the smile you wear
when you greet the worshippers,
every Sunday morning.


Lie to me
and confess your undying love
before my cracking heart
perhaps my decease will be more meaningless
than your rare truth

words haunt me at night
that i find myself writing my life story
in the middle of a dream
something not even my forefathers dared to try


her lips taste like whisky,
her heart beat cruises on the highway of regrets,
yet everything about her screams perfect.
though she is the legend of all druggies
she mysteriously is always sober at heart
and skilfully she drowns me in her affection
but whisky was never her favourite


Unrequited love is the price of falling in love,
a price we all have paid,
once upon a time.

LoveGlori at Moyo's Zoolake tomorrow night

I can't seem to grow weary of the LoveGlori blues and so can Nomonde. We seem to be more hung up than we were when we first saw them in February at Urban Zulu Roof Top. Every moment in their trance means restoration to my entire being. We went to see them at SABC Radio Park on Sunday and boy was I blown away, they have a bad habit of winning my heart over and over again and I know that I am not that weak. Each second in their midst is resurrection; every instance with them always leaves me blown away to ashes of utter joy. When in their presence I am not afraid to die because I know I will rise again to life owing to their melodies. They have become saviour to my ever so fickle soul.

I wondered what is it about them that makes me weak at the knees and leaves me begging for more. I, for a while was convinced that it was their beauty; it just had to be Nozuko's beauty that leaves me screaming "Abba Father" to my creator in worship.  Ato's smile was definitely the reason for Nomonde's death. That had to be it. We now knew the reasons for our fall and that made things a little clearer. Until I realized, even if Zuko had to cover herself in all rags of ugliness, she would still remain my compeller. Her beauty was not enough to have me in their audience in every of their events, something greater than a smile had to be responsible for this. Even if Ato stopped smiling, she still would command Momo to knees.

And then it hit me, as hard as it hit Momo that no beauty could have such a hold on either of us, beauty could not have such command, it was their voices, their angelic voices that leave us drowning in floods of joy, that leave us in a state of euphoria. It is humbling how alive they are on stage, how they calm the audience with their jazzy blues with just a pinch of comedy. The love they have for their craft would give sight to the blind and strength to the weary.

I will speak endlessly if I started to speak of their songs and how each and every jam seems to rub me up just the right way but I will speak nonetheless, just a little I will speak. How Ato sings "Ubuhle bakhe" makes me appreciate the kind of love I am in, "Call me" actually makes me realise just how needy and broken I actually am. The way Zuko sings "Ivili" is not of this world, the space I enter into when those lyrics escape from her lips cannot be of this generation. The passion that flows in Ato's eyes when she lets out "Te Amo" leaves me chanting with the heavens in thanksgiving for the creator of art that dwells in her soul and the seriousness that covers Zuko’s face when she sings “Again” just confirms that they mean business with their craft and with their hearts.

The melodies that these ladies have created cannot be known by me and Momo alone, it is a sermon for the whole universe to bask in. A lyrical sermon. Their music on SoundCloud brings zero justice to them; you must literally tan in their melodies; that will take you to the adventures of Peter Pan or Alice in Wonderland, to actually say you have come to know the Christ of Art. Luckily for you, they will be performing at Moyo's Zoo lake tomorrow evening.

Go there and be jazzed away by their careless blues.
She is a fountain of metaphors
A buffet of adjectives and pronouns
but on most days she is just a verb

She is the alphabets in all the words I write,
The punctuation in all my verses,
and the breath in every pause.


you are the ink in my every pen, that's why I am unable to put you down...

She was as sweet as May,
Her smile was as bright as the winter sun,
but her anger was more vicious than thunder.

they talk about the tragedy of falling in and out of love
but they never speak of staying in the love on which we have fallen
the music that penetrates the rays of the early morning sun


The lessons we teach today and the battles of the previous night might not change our lives tomorrow, it might never change our lives at all but the next  generation will reap the fruits of your labour so aluta continua, whatever your struggle, your descendants will benefit from your blood and sweat.
I am just a girl who loves to write. My mother was not a painter nor was my father a sailor. I used to dream of being a singer, now I want to be a poet and sing the world away in blissful blues...


Her love
rose from the soles of my feet to the follicles of my hair
she worshipped my every limb
she always was a celebrant of mankind.

She speaks,
vomits words of restoration,
I have risen from the ashes seven times by virtue of her devotion,
she whispers words of strength,
the ghost whisperer
she is.

Her hands
snatched me out of Lucifer's cradle,
Satan’s fugitive I now am,
such melody came from the tips of her fingers,
as she pulled me out from captivity,
her birth must have been intended just for me,

Her skin,
such unblemished skin she has
my ocean of pleasure,
save me not I am drowning,
dip me in the depths of your bosom, I implore.

So I played hide and seek in the pores of her skin,
A pursuit to uncover all the secrets she hides from the world,
to take for myself the light she hoards in her soul,
until she yelled I am coming
to save you from the iniquities of your own flesh,
to release you from the chains of your yesterdays,
she said.

Her lips
Tasted like summer rain,
The drops from Jupiter,
A little more like the kisses from Adam’s wife,
She was more supernatural than real,
The reincarnation of Mother Mary
she is.

Her voice
soothing to all my aches,
mellow to all my blues,
my circadian medicament,
my humble compeller,
she is.

She held the rays of the sun at the tip of her tongue,
Spoke in syllables of thunder to the rebels,
Clouds dared not whisper a word in her presence,
Her command was out of this world
That Gabriel fell at her watch
She once ordered the sun linger longer
so what is a mere man’s fall,
whose pride clearly preceded his faith?

Her aura
She serenaded the daredevils to slumber
Lit every tunnel with her smile
At the contours of her mouth sat hymns of hope
that she’d arbitrarily let escape to make the atheists to believe,
in him, the Great I am, that made their very existence possible.

But she wasn't what I was used to,
she clearly wasn't what I prayed for,
you see, I prayed for a lover,
to embrace my agony with her careless touches,
to be intoxicated in endless buckets of fear,
and my list ended there.

so I never banked on midnight nor day long conversations,
those all day Sunday sexual celebrations
that always left us hungry for more,
the gourmets of flesh we became,

I never banked on promises fulfilled,
Nor was reciprocated love a fan of mine, was so accustomed to unrequited affection,
But she let me lay on her bosom, though smothered in distress, drenched from the floods of tears escaping from my eyes; she let me in the depths of her soul

she clearly had a love only the gods could comprehend,
perhaps she too is a god hence inexplicable,
she surely was a different kind of a she,
she became my author of faith as I became the pump of liberation in her every vein,
something more like we were each other's life support,
but she wasn't my mother's cup of tea,
definitely not at all the girl next door,
she clearly had a love way out of my league,
she was the only girl who fell in love with my soul and all that makes my heart beat
a different kind of she.

©GayKindaLove 2012.12.01


She was broken in every alphabet of broke,
Like how the glass touched the ground
And became shards of something once worthy,
Like how the rain interrupted the melodies of the sun,
Like how my heart ached for yesterday.

She was pained in every rhyme of ache,
Like how the bride never made it down the aisle,
Like how her Mother's child died at birth,
Like how the leaves fell from the tree and left her bare,
Like how she never heard from the lover who went outside to smoke.

But she was beautiful,
In every syllable of beautiful,
Like how the rain made love to the leaves,
as the they fell from the tree
and collectively they made sweet melodies with the ground,
What a beautiful collaboration.

Though wrapped in utter distress,
She remained the most beautiful girl in the horizon,
Like how the sun graced every dawn,
and the moon sang at every dusk.

Though her agony preceded her happiness,
She tirelessly knelt on the corner of her bed at every midnight hour,
Clothed in her full armour of faith,
asking the gods, if not her creator, to remember her once more.

A collab with Jowey

Jowena Qwabe:
I placed my love in your hands, watched it dance on your palms as if the future was musical and told you? My love is for keeps. I should've told you don't ever leave, that my stars would bleed without you but even if I did, you would've thought I was just being romantic, just like the day I told you, a world without you? Is my greatest fear. Panic becomes me, my heart? Skipping too many beats but not enough that could aline with the moon and sun till I eclipse into yesterday, relive it knowing it is our last day. My voice would be softer and forever would still be real enough to manipulate into more echoes, we needed more echoes.
We needed more echoes, maybe the sound of my tears would now lead you home, sprinting to the pits of my arms like you truly heard me whisper forever, and I would swallow you in my arms, you always were a perfect fit, fitting to my very being, perhaps the drops of my loneliness would hurry you to the sight of my eyes had I spoke louder the words I should have said when you still could hear, when I still could make you listen, maybe I should have sang louder the hymns of your praises when you felt un-pretty before my eyes, maybe, maybe then, you'd come home, haunted by the echoes of my affection.
Jowena Qwabe:
You were the greatest words God ever spoke to me, now your absence feels so much like his cold shoulder, my tears go hard. I lost my words in every verse I kept reading to make me stronger, make me understand why your heart was too weak to carry on, why I should be strong enough to move on. I can barely walk; I am drunk on pain, cursing at every shooting star, shooting at my soul... You are my only wish
So I wished upon the star in your heart to give me my 3rd second chance, to redeem myself for the umpteenth time, maybe, maybe, I am a glutton for bad decisions that leave your eyes flooded with tears, maybe I'm difficult to love that I push you away to the arms of those who would pleasure in our fall so I weep to the heavens to lead you home, just this one time, I hail to the gods to send you my way, though it may be the last time but I, but I, I stutter at the mention of your name haunted by the cracks I left in your soul.
Jowena Qwabe:
Your soul the promise I always kept close to mine, till I broke into a half completed by you. So paint me a portrait to beautify our end and tell me how the colours taint the truth if they are so true. Tell me the heavens I dug into your sunrise where nothing but lies and I will accept our end, my tears will stop where your truth begins. I will strip you naked, for her to have, rip my name from your skin because you swear you are not mine, fitting oh so perfectly into my arms, you swear you are not mine... The truth dies in my arms, on your lips and when she kisses you? I pray she does not choke on it. Because you are mine but then again, one can live on a lie... I'm fine
Though you have abandoned the house we built, I still say I'm fine, surely I can learn to live with a broken heart, surely the heavens are preparing a home for me, surely this is the death of me but what is death to a soul already dead, what is light to a soul that feeds in all that is dark? Surely I will be fine if I not already am. When the angel of the dead comes for me, I will be resurrected to a life for the dead.

So I wished upon the star in your heart to give me my 3rd second chance, to redeem myself for the umpteenth time, maybe, maybe, I am a glutton for bad decisions that leave your eyes flooded with tears, maybe I'm difficult to love that I push you away to the arms of those who would pleasure in our fall so I weep to the heavens to lead you home, just this one time, I hail to the gods to send you my way, though it may be the last time but I, but I,  I stutter at the mention of your name haunted by the cracks I left in your soul.

We needed more echoes, maybe the sound of my tears would now lead you home, sprinting to the pits of my arms like you truly heard me whisper forever, and I would swallow you in my arms, you always were a perfect fit, fitting to my very being, perhaps the drops of my loneliness would hurry you to the sight of my eyes had I spoke louder the words I should have said when you still could hear, when I still could make you listen, maybe I should have sang louder the hymns of your praises when you felt un-pretty before my eyes, maybe, maybe then, you'd come home, haunted by the echoes of my affection.


Once upon a time

At the peak of that luminous day
The angry sun presented her discoveries to whoever dared to lend an ear
Her nemesis was to be tormented to lifelessness, she anticipated.
The sun finally uncovered the secrets of the dark, she boasted.
Fruitlessly she spoke of how the night relied on the moon to breathe
and told tales of how the stars sat next to the moon as if they were her offspring
she too desired a companion, more brighter than the stars of course
the rain always chased her away so she was no alternative
To her demise the jury failed to grasp the motive for her contest
That they showed unremitting favour to all that is brought into being at twilight
On that day she finally came to terms with the reality
that they both were created to reign on dissimilar times of the day
and that she was strong on her own, the empress of the day she was labelled
only then did she shine without jealousy
only then did she know her place in the kingdom
In the kingdom of the day she reigned
and they lived happily ever after


That beaming almost blinding light never came as they pledged
nor was the voyage any easier
the rain bowed on me even harder and undeniably angrier
this surely was a peculiar kind of a tunnel
the one they surely neglected to speak of
for they certainly knew about it
it was written all over fate's eyes

I don't really know what I fell in love with
your restorative smile or how your name sounded next to mine,
or possibly just the all the pieces of you,
the shards of your light,
or all the ashes to your fire?
perhaps I will never know
but I will assemble myself in forbearance trying to add you to I

In bits and pieces you came
Wrapped in all fabrics of doubt
Yet you asked me to mend you


They came and admired the flowers
Some kissed them while some spoke of the beauty that made them take notice
Yet nobody ever cared to honour the ground that made them bloom


What made it you?

Of all the multitudes who come flying to my sight,
those hopefuls who almost made it home,
flooding me with honey sweet promises.

What made you the one I chose?

could it be that smile that shone brighter the sun
that aura more enchanting than the moon
or was it the melody that escaped from your lips when you stuttered my name

You mysterious Seamstress
Sew me away in your heart
and over-lock me in the fabrics of your bosom

You are a god, a deity of splendour, a torrent of magnificence,

Worthy of all the reverence in the horizon, you beautiful Empress, your Excellency,

Let all humanity touch your feet in exaltation of the God that dwells in your spirit,

Let drip upon the follicles of their hair the verses of authority,

Let them bow to your commands, oh beautiful queen of Eden,

Let your lyrics of wisdom linger in their hard-stoned hearts,

Do not settle for anything short of royalty,

Lest you forget who your father is,

The Great I Am

He is
You litter my mind with unbroken musings of you. Such beautiful mess
Taking hold of me in between every breath. Perfect intruder
The sovereign of my being you are

You are the font of hope in my every scribble, the reason for my being
You see past my blues, yonder my past times. My fountain of faith
and the sun rays have made your soul yellow. The goddess of my soul
After all her attempts to save the world
She packed all her aspirations in her late grandmother's suitcase and never returned
She feared failure with all that still remained of her


It’s only when I mothered your shaking thighs
Your careless screams
Arched back
Supreme curled toes
Your bare ribs
that it hit me
that I was your addiction
at that moment
from that moment

You love me… right?

The humbling possibility that you love me more than you actually let on, that lies within your soul a home for me, that you worship every fragment of my soul in the temple of my being, that you love me so much it terrifies you beyond ashes level and that nostalgias of me successfully manage to keep you from slumber thinking about all the honey sweet mellow things you want to whisper to me when I wake from yet another nightmare, is what carries me through the rocky bumps on the road.

The probability that you fear losing me as much as I fear losing myself in the fogs of the earth makes me love you more than I care to admit, even to my little ever wavering heart.

The likelihood that you wear my love around your neck for the world and the hopeful other hers to see, is what defines how alive I will be the next day.

The life threatening possibility that I'm just fooling myself and that you'd merrily cherry-pick a life free of me, free of us and the house we built, leaving lifeless on the ground the portraits of our imaginary sons and daughters, please do keep it to yourself for my own sanity

But, but, but you do love me right?

Love & everything in between

I didn't just fall in love with your soul that effortlessly carries me through the shadows of life and lays me comfortably on the knowledge that you'll almost or rather possibly never leave me

I also fell in love with everything in between

Like how you dance for me in between those unscented sheets that haunt me every time you are away.

Like how your hands look like when you grab the pillows as I let you enter paradise.

Like how you conveniently forget to flush the toilet or collect the mess you left on the floor just to piss me off, conveniently ... for you.

Like how you sincerely always forget to close your mouth when you yawn and manage to irritate me to passing out levels.

Like how you burp and see no reason to apologize, my little pig.

Like how you somehow always forget to close the door to the loo when you take a release.

Like how you bang the car door when you are upset thinking I will forget you didn't apologize.

I fell in love with all the pieces that make you what you really are behind closed doors where only I can see you.
Amidst all my troubles lies the reality that, I'm undeniably the luckiest girl alive


To the love of my soul

 You offer me words soothing to the soul
Your skin placed on that mahogany bedstead
as you submitted to me the everlasting lessons from your lower lips

You let drip the knowledge from your life encounters unto the crown of my head
Closed shut the books you've read
Almost letting me in on all that consumes you when the lights go off

You shower me with unbroken devotion, honouring my deepest needs
But I, though content I, I yearn for the fragments of your soul you flawlessly hide
I am certain they are the reason I fell in the fountain of your bosom
She wasn't really the prettiest of all
nor did she turn anyone's head
there was no sound of thrilled whistles thrown at her when she walked past the village rebels
Even the attention of delinquents she’d bashfully accept
But not a soul ever saw past her knee length skirts and concealed bosom
but at the core of it all, at the end of her displeasure with how the world perceived her,
she knew her lover thought she was everything she'd always seen and craved for in the world
and that was just enough to keep the smile on her ever wandering eyes
she came rushing home
to tell him the news he ached for since their formation
only to find him trying his luck on an 18 year old
much more thinner and prettier than she’d offer
Perhaps he essentially wasn't ready to be a father


"I am afraid of getting older… I am afraid of getting married. Spare me from cooking three meals a day—spare me from the relentless cage of routine and rote. I want to be free… I want, I want to think, to be omniscient. I think I would like to call myself ‘The girl who wanted to be God.’"
Sylvia Plath, (written in 1949)
We are the loose ends of something beautiful
the last drop of every rain
we were created for eternity for each other
messed up as we are
The long awaited Friday came and clouded us with promises
of the glitz and glamour the night might offer us
Only to find my neighbour's daughter dangling from the roof the following morning
Ropes don't make great jewellery at all
And new days are not always the start of something new
The blood stains in her pricy underwear still haunt her mother
We spend our Sundays
wondering if Monday will find us
worthy enough to let us bask in her tormenting light
that is always better than not being there at all
They all gather in their dark corners every other second
Mourning the loss of their companions
The eternal scars of the Marikana struggle


Like Father Like Son

Their fathers and sons hesitated not to snatch the womanhood from the sacred hands of their daughters
Yet none of them is brave enough to tell the tale of that bitter night that came with every darkness
Another meal on the table for them they were not ready to lose
Silent cries from the other room they chose to ignore
But sadly those nights are renewed with every dawn
The pillows serve as an escape to confessions they only make to themselves
For they will never look at the faces of their daughters without seeing the hands of their sons and fathers covering their developing bosoms

©GayKindaLove 2012-11-13
All I have ever wanted,
paying no mind to all my flaws,
was to be one of the poems in your poetry book

All I have ever cared to be
forget my incessant complaints,
was to be even if it's just a line in your infamous rhymes

All you ever were, ever will be,
is the ink in my every pen,
flawed as you are


I went hunting for the sun that used to shine in your eyes
even melody has left your parted lips
oh Mother Earth, restore her from the grave, the fall of my soul
My heart beats for you more than it beats for me,
the same way I implore the gods
to save you more than my own redemption.

Lover, on whose bosom will your heart lay tonight?
Admitting to missing you will
most likely worsen the solitude state of my being but again,
it would make you smile knowing you consume me just as much
Lover, I see you battling with self, wondering if you should call me.

Shove over to me all your sorrows and I will spread laughter on your lips

One day they will remember me,
they will surely call my name as if I still live.
Maybe that's when my life will really begin

As the sun sets to bring forth a new dawn
Life will resurrect with every tragedy of death
Fear not to tell them of the day
you stopped giving fucks for a living.
What a beautiful tale that should be

What good is a day if the sun won't shine?
the leaves fell beautifully from the tree
it was celestial how they collided with the ground
against the storms they danced in the rain
finding resumption of faith as they battled for life counter to the quakes of the earth
until they found meaning in your lips


Love, Poetry and Fingerprints

She was a fountain of sin

Turned the heads of the village kings
Like how the bees lusted over nectar
But her soul mate found comfort in other men
All the priests prayed for a moment with her,
The rebirth of a fallen seraph in whose bosom they minded not to fall
As they drooled from the tiny hole to the confession booth
where she sat every Sunday dawn drenched in regrets
As she made known the sins of yester night
An outburst of tales that haunt her at sleep

Little mind did they offer to her pleas
As she implored the heavens to save her
Rather they had ample time to unclothe her of all the fabrics that covered what remained of her skin
Up and down they travelled the cracks of her body,
Some were on a pursuit to see her come undone
While only one was on quest to save her broken soul

They pledged to adulate her commands
like how the stars worshiped the moon
but she needed only one man to leave his fingerprints on her shattering skin
Even the sincere one could not take the place of the love of her life
though she knew he was out of her reach
he lived beyond what she ever could be able to offer

They all came clothed in falsity
Uttering promises of eternity
Promising to mend her shattered glass of faith
Promising her serene nights
Like how the sun obliged to the authority of the darkness at nightfall
But she needed one man to serenade her ache with rhymes of poetry
What tragedy it was that the love of her life found slumber in Adam's bosom


Another weekend spent well

Thank you Momo

With you, the impossible are possible

God lives in YOU
Their anger raged more than thunder,
Their words were as deadly as the lightning that the birds lost their melody
and the sun never returned
Some were on a quest to see her come undone
while others wanted to save her
There’s something greater for me out there
Something I’ve been praying for
Bruised knees have made known the tales of my quest
I surrender to the calling
There’s something greater for me out there
And it is in your soul
I wanna curl up in the well of your bosom
Tap to every stroke of your affection
and hear you tell me how you pined for my return
Sprinkle me with the oil of your devotion
from the follicle of my hair to the soles of my suffering
and I will worship you
You bashed me your words of piercing silence
Showered me with daily words of your displeasure
Words unspoken
Finally made me an ambassador of failure
So packed my dreams away
Blossomed in doubt
Till I realized the power of self
She expected a storm of painful words;
little did she know I came dressed as a Saint this time around
It just dawned on me that
pain haunts me
as passionately as I haunt slumber at night


I am tarnished and blue
Surely sinking
Drowning in and out of sanity


You took away your love and all I now have are shades of your presence
How do I attest you were real?



I'm just a bundle of pain and that's the closest I've ever gotten to joy

She adorned her face with more layers of "make me up"
Yet every nightfall she asked the Lord to make her as beautiful as Snow White
Little did she know that her beauty was her zeal for her creator

I'm the same colour as the nails holding up a broken house
Rusted and weary
Tarnished and blue
Revive me
Save me


My Neighbours' Daughter

She was a beautiful woman
Her voice must have been that of Mary
Her stride commanded sinners to righteousness
She was her Mother’s spawn
the reason for every man's fall
had every hand cling to her lustrous temptations
A goddess of wickedness

She carried the sins of men in her bosom, the well of tragedy
Around her neck she wore the bruises offered to her by the father who stole her womanhood every Sunday night
Soaking wet with compliments from men who left their wives uncelebrated
Intoxicating foul-mouthed men by the scent between her thighs

She clutched the taste of heaven at the tip of her tongue
As she worshipped the coins in their pockets
More so, when they clumsily read from her parted lips
Scarring her skin with their inharmonious grins and groans
Her intelligence insulted by their atrocious chitchats

She clothed herself with more lies than the fabrics
which were no more than 3 even on the coldest of nights
She adorned her speech with more fairy tales than the reality
she shoved behind her closet every winter night
As she tirelessly climbed the paradigms of her enthusiasts’ bliss
Her lovers called her art

Silently she wept for help, implored for redemption, the more she let escape what they confused for delight
As she hurried to a pretentious climax
The more she screamed I am coming, her mind flew to places only she created
Where she pined for her lover who never made it out of her imagination
Her fragment of paradise never made it home after the fires of that sombre night
She cried to the heavens seeking answers to questions she never dared to ask
Until that day of audacity where she’d make known to the messiah her pleas
A haven of broken dreams she knew she’d remain

©GayKindaLove 2012-10-25