spilledwoords
“Poetry burns in our hearts with the passionate heat of a lover’s embrace.”
Broken
When my skirt was torn, I gasped in fear
The last shed of my dignity laid
Solemnly on the floor having paid
A plea; willing the beast in between your legs to hear
The angry inferno from your long exhaust pipe to douse
Where my tears have failed to speak.
You buoyed up more.
The skirt long, modestly trimmed
Ankle long; no unholy slit gaping
Or some alluring flesh peeking
Out like the first rays of early sun primed
From the East of its rising.
Yet you pounced on my curvy frame
You’d pinned to the wall, the door locked
with the strength of a deadly fox.
Reasoning fell on brick walls.
Screams seized in my throat.
On my third finger – the diamond glistened in gloat
Who’d hear and believe I was not willingly playing balls
Who would believe he’s my fiancé
Of just two weeks
The one that consented we should
Hold on a little while longer before we consummate.
So, it was you all along I was begging
Phallus – who thought without a head
My betrothed’s empty of rational thoughts – led
By Desire, as you sated and laid limp – legging
And your erratic heartbeat back to normal
Beside my broken body sobbing in spasms,
Love shrieked to utter.
© Ndidi Ugo-Nkwoala, 2020
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