Don’t need his hazel eyes and cinnamon orbs to complete me cos
They look not my truth but fear of my proximity as he runs with cowardice not with luscious ecstacy
This heart I know lost in the island of sanctity; I need not be jump roping around his resistance and doubt for
In it I find no beauty only hypocrisy.
I know better than his foot flattened into flower spring and the other drip into the hole of immoral sewerage as he gape at my unwelcoming past
It forsakes me when he dramatizes to be with me.
Don’t need a man who stands afraid to cross a screeching antique bridge he has never tested for in him lies a boy in retreat not a man who overcomes pride and defeat.
I am a woman fixed to pursue life beyond seasonal Tempo cos I always embrace wounds and a new wound caused by the turning leaves of second chances; salted wounds don’t scare me but distrust does comatose me.
Don’t need this man to complete me for I know that ‘that responsibility’ is on me. Watch me struggle; watch me scream in pain; hear not my wolf cry but that stained woman who outcast the belief system you held hidden in your sagged heart.
Hear my drumbeat as I rejoice over the black parade which narrated your unwillingness to feel my light skin and flesh for once I have given you the septer, have given you the map but you opted for the in-between frightened to explore the inlet towards a love so genuine.
For choosing to be exiled in solitude is what I see as your downfall. This madness sewn from your changing nature but sealed belief system. A belief you hailed in a cloak more brilliant than the truth bestowed.
I don’t need any thing from the kind of man you are as you have given up the throne before you are even crowned as its rightful heir.