I remember the day like yesterday when he slowly laid his head against my bosom and said my heartbeat sounded like the dancing feet of a hundred African men parading around their village. He knew nothing about Africa but the gesture was still sweet. He knew I loved poetry and he wanted to impress me.
He was slowly seeping into my heart.
I remember the day like yesterday, when our fingers intertwined like woven baskets, fitting so perfectly, flesh to flesh, palm to palm.
I knew then he was perfect.
I remember the day like yesterday when his lips felt like a thousand tiny blades the way my insides cringed as the softness of his lips touched my badly shaped bare flesh. I knew he had to see the uneven hills of me right beside his hand and the valleys right around my thighs, yet there was still longing in his eyes. “I need you, I need this” continually whispered out to me through his hands and the heat that was pouring out of his own shapely flesh.
He had no smell but his fragrance intoxicated me.
It lingered on my body long after we had reached the peak of our existence and walked into what had to be heaven together.
Yes, I remember the day like yesterday.
When I unlocked my garden and let him pick my petals until he had a bouquet full of me.
