Poetica 40

It has been a quick year and SHE can’t wait till August.
You are stronger but can’t handle the insanity in her.
You promised not to be late but arrive with the sunset.
No time to waste, you soon make this African son rise.
Your hands slowly fill up my desire to cuff you.
They move fast as you’re worried about the curfew.
Gently unmasking what you’re after then your legs lock down.
SHE finds her cure in our clandestine entanglement.

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