By Margueritte Pijteng
“You make me feel safe and beautiful”, she said
She orchestrated these words like the piano and violin which rule the audience
She knew its effects as she’s learned to web them a few times
A few too many you may state
But its better than presenting non-existent love, right?
They always melt at these words
How their grip around her waist tightens.
Their cologne being stronger than it is was 2 seconds ago
Their lungs having greater surface area
To accommodate her lavender honeycomb scent.
Their eyes phosphorescent
Kisses being the definition of passion
With hearts singing the beats of the African drum,
Each being slightly different…
For she knew the importance of little things
The same way her hands carved the knife that spoke in times of need
A single knife that thrived on several beings within the ice
Thus, painting the moon crimson