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How To Turn Lust Into Love by BWriteword

Close your eyes
and fall into the colour of your shadow,
Shut it still, hold tight,
When you loose, slowly,
Let your heart be hungry for her
because she’s a meal, a real meat,
And as you behold her;
The moon broken into halves, Rotating on her chest,
Lick your lips, smile,
Blink your eyes seven times in a second,
Poke your craving with a needle,
Let it begin to cry,
Then open your mouth to talk
but drown quickly in a river
of speechlessness,
Say nothing, not anything,
She’ll understand-
She always do.
As she gaits gently about,
Throw your eyes like discuss beneath her ribs-
Straight into her belly button;
It’s a safe house
(where your mind is always at peace with…)
Use your lips to rub off any dust there,
Then clear your throat
and proceed to her thighs,
Repeat it again and don’t stop,
Note: she’s been lying
spontaneously for a surgery,
Although not in a ward,
Not even within walls,
But in the firmament of your mind.
She may want to resist with ego at first,
But as her doctor, glide with gentility;
It’s in your constitution, your ethics,
So be gentle like green, like grace
because to fight the beast sometimes,
One needs to be an angel,
So be mild, yet wild.
As you clean,
Remember to reach the soldier’s spot;
The clitoris,
Some call it ‘the spot of death’-
A spot to kill and heal at once,
But even death is a gate to hereafter,
So she won’t die and not wake,
Thus, feel free and clean,
If she asks you to stop, ignore,
Because she didn’t mean it,
Go on and clean, kill, heal, feel, with glee,
Feel good as you generously clean her
till you hear a voice-
A voice that makes no sound,
But it comes like wind sometimes,
Other times like fire that doesn’t burn.
When you hear that voice,
Rub your forehead with your palm,
Shut your eyes once again
but this time don’t see your shadow,
See a flake of snow rather,
Shut it still, hold tight,
When you loose, slowly,
Open your eyes and behold her;
A goddess of sanity, of purity.
As you behold her ravishing beauty,
Smile and allow the redolence
of her perfume plunge your pride,
Once this is done,
Walk up to her like a king
and bury these words in her ears:
“For real, please Be My Wife.”
Share Your Thoughts Below

About Praise

Praise Osawaru is a writer, (performance) poet, content developer and entrepreneur-in-training. His works have appeared/forthcoming in African Writer, Black Youth, Kreative Diadem, Ngiga Review, Nantygreens, SprinNG, Praxis Magazine and Writers Space Africa. He was longlisted for African Writers Award 2019 and Shortlisted for The Zi Prize 2019. He enjoys reading books, listening to good music, and binge-watching series on Netflix when he isn't over-worrying about University life. Say hello on Instagram/Twitter: @wordsmithpraise

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