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