SoS

She was so lissom and spoke with a little lilt,
When she sidled in, no — sauntered in, you could feel the necks twist and heads tilt,
Her skin had a dark brown tint, but her teeth and eyes were where lay her true glint,
And entrap all of us she would with a single look and no guilt!

 

I fell like any tree — hard — wood,
Loud and awkward I came tumbling down raw and misunderstood,
It’s not difficult to see why make sense I not could,
I mean, just look at her hair and feel the knots in your stomach as you swoon!

 

She was obviously used to the attention,
The way she used it to her advantage and left you cliffhanging for a profession,
Was a sure sign that she had a way of cataloguing and tag-alonging those who gave her mention,
So along I went, caution out of the window sent, seeking the one item she would never leave for redemption.

 

And so the story goes that I ended up here, alone,
She is somewhere being serenaded with a lemonade and biceps she can hold,
I am tattooed with gloom in a room whose foundations can barely hold,
And in my pen I find no solace or resurrection for my soul,
I let the wrong one into my home.

 

Yours in despondency,

Evans Mbora Campbell
(S)oul S(o) (S)old.

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