poetry

Family is trash and a bottle of water.

When she opened her legs, I knew it was happening, her breast was like hot chocolates drank in a rush, one that you hope doesn’t finish- she was smooth, smoother than most girls I have met, she said she wanted more and I was ready. I crave Lagos, like vagina or vodka, a way that should be explorative, one that should satisfy me, I want to walk by the beach with my hand in my hair, pulling through every stride, I  crave Lagos like the local jollof rice my grandma use to make, she uses local Maggi and lots of onions and dry fish, the palm oil had a different aroma, my grandma was a genius in the kitchen, why do people get old?

Cream.

Cream pour out of my body in cums, sleeping to a cat and a book.

She played with my vaginas with her toes, giggling.

I liked how she smiled- how she makes me hard.

She was to busy for me.

BLUE

I am blue, I am you, forget the baby and leave the woman to herself-

Resilience

A lady stopped talking to me cos’ she thought I was bi-curious, I actually am, but I have never gone that far to suck a girl, the most I have done is kiss, not even suck a boob

Cheekbone

Am starving of worship! I want to be worshipped. I am crying because I love you but you love another, you don’t seem to bother about the too many attentions I throw at you, instead you prefer someone else’s cruel treatment and lies they feed you.