The End

Nothing wakes me than the turbulence in your eyes

And the sun is yours forever, as my perfect gift.

There’s nothing comparable with your streamlined waist

Running down your toned pelvic floor

To the slender, long legs.

And here I am, crucified to your love

But you don’t see the intense heat in me,

That I spew the weight of men

Who lift concrete bars on their heads.

My life is different, am like dew in smog

But you don’t know, that am a different breed

Our poles will never collide

We fly in disarray

Anointed in rustic charm

And amused by our hallucinations of being cared for

But none of this is true

We are poles that will never collide

Amidst all our cravings, they won’t be one.

You really don’t know that am not the shooting star

Am not the matador

Am rather the rustic nuisance to your parlance

Am the keen knife to your elegance

Until when you exfoliate

And become that dust at the hem of our existence.



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