Look at you.

Shining like a beacon even in the melee.

With a body as lithe as Tay Iwar’s video star.

Unaware that always dressing as if going to a soiree,

only makes that shade of black shine brighter.


You move with the natural grace of a dolphin in water.

If I didn’t know better,

I’d mistake you for a ballerina.

But your sister tells me you get sweaty when you dance to Fela.


I have this fantasy going on about us.

You trembling underneath and me ravishing.

There’s this primal need to touch.

And if it’s not quenched,

I don’t see it diminishing.


Sing for me.

I can’t seem to get that velvety voice out of my head.

It’s worse that it has the enchanting lilt of a storyteller.

I have a feeling that when glazed with desire,

it becomes sweeter at sixteen hundred.


I’d offer you a life of la dolce vita for a smile a day,

but they say love don’t cost a thing.

I’m afraid you’d think I was insinuating that we should have a fling.


Every night, I pray to the powers that be to let you be mine.

At every first light, I feel the side of my bed hoping to see you there looking mighty fine.

But I am yet to have a ring that fits your physique.

Would you be the love of my life without it,