Dear Peaceful me,
I… I buried my hands in my thighs afterwards
I didn’t have a pick axe or shovel to make a burial hole yet I shoved them hands in a hole
That act covered my mamma and area of tinkle – a bit cloaked but greater the part undraped
Wonder what I was covering when my biography had been written by his pen!
You see peaceful me, that mortal. He frantically rode my balls race as though his balls were in a race with my ovaries
Up and down he swung his balance on me
I bore the anguish of the tattoos he stamped on the whole of me till I became a Borehole.
Twas on my desert he lapped his dessert though there was nothing to be eaten there. You can imagine how he sucked when nothing was showing up!
My screams did nothing but strengthen and energize his third leg – a step deeper in my mine with each.
My aggressiveness and bites were like the “You can do better” statement written on our terminal report cards.
Even when my breath became low key, he still strung his needle. What insanity!
He kicked me out, half dressed and flung some notes at me as though I were a ho. Impudence!
Dear Peaceful me, you got no troubles but I got more than just a handful.
I wish I were like you but tradition asserts it’s wrong to be like another.
I’m sure you can sense pain in my written voice.
I still have my hands in my thighs
I still have tears on my face
I still got them tattoos on my body.
I’m sorry I can’t be you, peaceful me and I’m ashamed of this me now.
This shameful me inside me has grown mean. Watch out!
© *Poetezz Nana Ama*