THE PAIN OF PRIDE

PAIN

He stirs

She stirs

Facing the opposites

Suppressing the love which wants to play

 

He yawns

She yawns

An evidence of watching with instincts

But all hands have been tied by pride

 

Some angry opener

In settled time

Left its ghost on the love birds

Now even in sleep, it occupies the middle

 

Their eyes never meet at day

They bodies never touch at night

Cupid of old, take out your charms

And exorcise their home to make them one in bed.

Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

 

2 thoughts on “THE PAIN OF PRIDE

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