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Iremide,
this is not a poem
or a love letter.
I've watched you tear boys
apart into shreds of
paper in your hands.
I've seen your perfect
eyelashes blink them
into hades - oblivion.
Your beautiful lips have
curled to show your disgust
accompanied by a classic spit
of their drunken words.
I have watched your hands
make magic with words,
watched those dainty fingers
recreate life and infuse soul
into deadened tree pulp.
And permit me to say
that
if you ever get tired of
reading those history books,
please,
come read me.
I await your reply.
Yours, Gbenga.
About the Creator
Will Shimnom Simon
Always the poet... Never the poem.
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