You adored the way I read to you my poems
and you'd say that's how I feel about you.
On your lap I sat
your hands rested on my hips
tired
exhausted
consumed
by the heat i emanated
when my hips drifted from side to side and my fingers braided tight cornrows with your hair
locking in your energy.
You savored the sweet sound of the way words were recited by my lips,
you made them the muse of your idolatry so we meditated and prayed, with ungraspable words pouring out from our lips as we tried to fight away the delusional belief of being our thoughts,
all night underneath smothering stars
because we're not our thoughts,
they are a scarce part of who we are.
Most nights you listened and I'd allure your awakening with words you could hardly comprehend.
With the sound of well thought,
quiet and painfully emphasised words.
Make all of me the muse of your idolatry.
@hvnyboo | @evaish_
YOU ARE READING
𝐔𝚴𝐃𝚬𝐑 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐊𝚰𝚴
Poetry"I'd let you into my mind but you'd have to get under my skin" ITALIANO/ENGLISH "The devastation and the unspoken destruction in her mind were the greatest catastrophes I had ever laid my eyes on along with the darkness that came along were my muses...
