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Sunday, January 8, 2017

The Taste Of Hormones - by Alasooke Omo Olakunle


I could smell him… taste him

The smell of sweat, taste of hormones

Bringing me headfirst

To the place Id call home

The rock hard acknowledgement

Rose to meet my hand

as i snaked towards it, amazed and possessive




Like a child to a new toy

I touch, tentative at first

the rumble came again

And I knew this meal couldn’t be savored

He couldn’t wait

I couldn’t stay

My juice seeped

His swimmers screamed

I let him lift me

I let him part me

And with me sheathed the sword that begged

To be covered and protected

Silently I whisper

“You’re safe now…”

Though He couldn’t hear

He believed me. And proved it

In the thrusts and the scratches

In the firm placement of my feet

At the middle of his back, holding

Him for fear that I slip

And fall into that oblivion of need

Not to feed myself, but to tend

His gaping wound and bleeding sores.

I held on

He went on

It didn’t matter if he was mine to tend

Or mine to give care

Like you can’t choose who births you

Often times my dears

you can’t choose who you’re called to tend

He touched

I raked

He pushed

I pulled

mouths met

And passed spirits

 Souls touched

And then tap danced around
In celebration of each other

A silent tapping dance

To music only us could hear.

by Alasooke Omo Olakunle

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