I lie down/my body weightless/no
rain/no sunshine/there are birds of
silent wings/my throat squeezed of
every drop of sound. I'm waiting/
eyes closed/arms unresistant to the
demands of the wind/dust on skin/
fingers wrapped around night's skin.
When will you come into my body like
fire/blister my soul/drag out the
howl of rabid dogs from my throat?
I'm hungry—I eat earth/eat sky/
drink tree wind. There's thunder in
my head/violence in my chest/war in
my fingers. When will you come/
receive these offerings from me?
Among the boys that returned home/
I'm the first/my feet on the door
mouth/before you ate my body into
the silence of this room. The others
are voiceless afterimages prowling
the edges of sight. How did you do
that? How did you make them so
incomplete? You've brought me in/
like a stranger/out of the rain and
I'm here waiting. You've filed your
fingers/watched me from every corner
of the walls/your feet echoing all
over/yet here/I wait. What will you
do when you come? What will I do?
Will you survive the horror of my love?
📸: pixabay
Yours always,
Osahon(warpedpoetic)
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