THE LOVER I BECAME
The woman I am wouldn’t see tears in those eyes-
-and not grab the hem of my skirt.
I would wipe the emotions facilitating-
-watery eyes if I have to.
“I love you” sips only the surface of my sentiments-
-when my moans lock yours in matrimony.
I just wish to have you and rip you apart-
-praising the privilege of tasting your soul as mine.
The woman I have become understands-
-the reason for such watery eyes.
Pupils burst into flames by a living breathing ignition,
Do I wipe our love as well?
Do your fingers caress the imagery of us both-
-bare skinned in the middle of fire?
For the sake of those interestingly fiery eyes-
I’ll wear a skirt-
-and nothing else.
Poem © Oma
Photo by Gaelle Marcel on Unsplash (modified)