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  • Category: Community Poetry
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The Paris Terrace

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Crack it, break it bleed it

It’s only my heart

One little part of me

Tear down my bones

Impregnate my moans

Burn your kiss on my lips

Can love just ever be free

Privatize scent in a wisp

Is that your wish?

Is love the main dish or me

 

Under the Paris sky

On pillows full

On overstuff lies

Didn’t I die for you?

Cobblestone heart

Just as we part

I called it deceit

You call it your art

Mona me my Lisa

I died for you

 

A two lady terrace

First to play doctor

Two lady rockers

Smooth with a line

Blue eyes mated

Feeling corrugated

Butterfly fingers

Stingers and thighs

Bishwa Ijtema

 

Your deep set brown

Stained my white dress

The moon uptight

Hot June night

Swooning tunes

Played and pawed

Popping our lids

Night came with us

As morning did

 

But then the die

The casting aside

Why

Evening clapped

The drapes rose

Walls collapsed

Detecting moles

You and I

We melted gold

 

Was it the morning sun

That burned your eyes

Or just the truth

Turning to lies

Embarrassed by what we did

Two perfect Junes

Two perfect kids

I can’t erase Parisian nights

Nor how we both took our first flights

 

Your cobblestone heart walked on me

But one Paris night you drove me free

 

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