Simmering thoughts gushing pods of sweat on her skin,
Fist pressed and pivoted on her waist as a support,
Looking down at her big smooth oval 'prized' stomach,
Face, face having no savour or flavour at all,
A cornered being feeling defeated, dejected and lost,
Her Cologne has lost its perfumed scent,
Her mind has been the ground of wandering thoughts,
Her image; the arena of blames,
Even in the cold room, she felt her skin on flames,
She opened her mouth at last like a recovered vanquish, but no words came out, no, only lips reciprocating, wedding bridal collection in blue
After what seemed like eternity,
finally when her words found their stand, they said;
"Judge me not with the failure I carry within mother,
Your face speaks pity and disdain but clothe me not in blames papa!
Because I choose to accept this failure, yes?
Do my decision now make me a disappointment too?
Is that why society now look at me like fart from a mad woman's bosom?
I now walk the streets I was once celebrated with fear,
Fingers now point at me like dried shit on the ground for caution....
Even Linda laughs.. Linda who also had hers but choose to made away with it?
Do I now stink in their minds 'cause I can't kill that which isn't alive yet like Linda?
She paused, only to look over her shoulders,
Only to see me looking cold but indifferent,
She rotated her neck back like I never existed,
Dropped her neck with the head bouncing afterwards like tennis in clayed courts.
She continued but now her voice only seemed to go with stutters,
Her sigh sent echoes touching my cochlea with a tickle,
Louder than diplomatic sirens,
"Cry not little one, cry not,
I will tell you how your father came,
How he came bearing words of romance on his lips tips and had that sweet masculine smile,
How my skin rejuvenated when he caressed them,
How my skin's fallen hairs rose up when his fingers approached them,
How his voice echoed in my distant dreams,
He was the hero of my fantasy dream.. when in my folly I believed him.
I will tell you feeble one, how he gave you to me,
February could testify that that night was cold,
He came saying he wanted warmth,
Then like a sizzling hot sensation you ran off him into me,
But right then he smile changed I guess,
Right afterwards I couldn't reach him again,
He never dropped a message,
If you see him coming dear child, don't run after: he's not your father.
So sit, sit and I'll tell you,
I'll tell like how from the eastern skies-
I'll rise, yes like the sun I'll rise again bittered but bettered.
-A Story In Poetic Lines