When Poets Chase the Wind by ADEYEMO E.O

Words will scamper in fragments like fingers intruding & seeking to hide under innocent underclothes… There would not be silence, because the heart would whine! Pleasure would mean a dance of duress. And when you ask what trope tamed a screaming script, you’d see that some protruding pen find their muse under sorrow, tears & blood – a pin punctures into the throat through skewered hymen & weeps in creamy waters that never satisfy. Not for fear of justice though, but for numb nostalgia of page once stabbed & ever closed…       

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