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  • Writer's pictureRabby

What is it?

I was minding my own business when these words started forming in my head… It sounded pretty so I picked my phone and started writing…. enjoy

Maybe it was the way the wind carried her perfume. It was strong. Tickled your nose every time she was around.

Maybe it was the way the airwaves whispered her footsteps. You would hear her heels dance with the ground moments before you sensed her.

And when you saw her, you would see the glory of skin. Glistening and smooth, her pores were bathed in shimmer. From her forehead to her calf, she was anointed with delight. It poured all over her back and danced around her hair. It was thick and fluffy. Whipped cotton. It made you want to touch.

Maybe it was the desire she put in my belly. She unwrapped me of everything manly and when I was in her presence, I’m certain she could see the boy I was and the man I could be.

She moved something in me every single time. And each time it felt like the first time. She was so familiar and so mysterious. She was like a Sunday morning on my tongue and a cold breeze on my back. She humbled me. I still don’t know what it was. But since she left, I’ve been searching for it.


p.s: if you had the chance to caption this poem, what would it be?

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