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Your lips

I'm drunk
on your salt

That beautiful
beautiful taste

did you drink
right before we kissed?

some saccharine
yet salty brew?

Have I been sedated?

I feel like prey
right before a wolf

as I must be

for I know
my purpose is to serve.
As fireworks litter the dancefloor of our atmosphere
One can only hope that we remember
Who really ignites our passions
Continues our flames
Sets off sparks in our hearts
And takes care of the scattered remains
You are my independence from the hold of avoiding interdependence
I'll forever light a Roman Candle to wish for romantic thoughts up a star
Explosive, you are.

Ifeanyi N. Okoro II © 2021
Not big on July 4th. Very big on explosiveness.
I fell short of matching all of the stars in space with the raindrops that made its way to Earth
Instead, I matched the stars in your eyes with the old pain's last breath and otherworldly love's first
The clouds have opened back up for business, booming thunder and zooming lightning
Somewhere there, the flash of your smile
The beat of your heart
The coolness of your waters that quench my thirst for you

It's natural to look at nature au naturale
Like Italians and Nigerians talking with hands as expressive as Deaf lovers relay romantic verses
Clear, nimble fingers that massage my soul within the cumulonimbus and nimbostratus
Fueling, flooding, fostering the gods' apparatus

The final form of unfinished paintings
Give birth to worthwhile wishful thinking
On my mind like taxes and teacher's lesson plans
A soft brush adjusting to the sky's new hues kissed like ones we've missed or knew
A masterpiece in pieces of Vishnu's vision for when he returns to look for Lakshmi
Hopefully time will not be Shiva to end this for me

How does it feel to be adored by Indra, when showers descend and drench the deepest ditches to force creation of drawbridges for those dire to cross your path again?

- Ifeanyi N. Okoro II © 2021
There is no forgetting.
He doesn't burn photographs
He doesn't join therapy sessions
He doesn't smoke too many cigarettes
Nor he drown himself into alcohol
He scratches his wounds daily
And never let them heal
He doesn't try to get rid of the pain
Instead he let it grow on him
He waters the seed of sorrow with his tears
He feeds it with the manure of old memories
He takes it to sleep with him
And nurtures it in himself
Till the moment when every single drop of his blood gets replaced by this pain
Until his fragile heart can bear no more
And his soul starts overflowing with emotions
That's when he dip his pen into this pain
And empty his heart on a piece of paper
He bares his soul for us to feel
He creates poetry that the world would cherish for centuries to come
That's how true poetry comes into existence
You were not true to god.
I was playing with fire for resuscitation
to search violets in your eyes.

The sameness was very
typical. We cry at the same time.
to move away from burning calendars.

A single kiss of Agni
will make the ashes of bickering moons.
I want to die no more.
This winter night
What fell from the sky
Landed on my cheek
Cooled me
Gave me chills in my soul
Wasn't your lips
Unfortunately not your soothing words

And just like that, it melted
As did other snowflakes that made their descent
And I hated this Valentine's Day
For not letting me freeze
In your presence.

Ifeanyi N. Okoro  © 2.14.21
Where's my Valentine?
There were stars in the gaseous garden
Not your everyday botanical brilliance boasting beauty
Just a set of eyes like fauna
Wandering and wondering
Growing fond of the fragrance of flora
Foreign ideas to think they wouldn't devour them

On Nimbus nights
I, a wayward raindrop from the clouds of descending souls, wish to be sweet to the tongue I plunge to
Like water for hot cocoa
One brings to a boiling roll
What can simmer this will in the hot seats like pots be
On burners

We all burn for attention
And, in another dimension,
We quench the thirst of both flora and fauna
Sacrificing for beauty and beasts
As rain would maintain peace on unearthed surfaces on fire

Maybe this outspoken raindrop is really a seed, planting and plotting to promote growth in spirits
The trickle down on panes when hearts don't quite hear it
Or eyes overlook
Or when roses won't rise
Maybe those stars will guide?

Maybe fauna don't really realize its worth is reciprocal
Why poems put pride in places so pitiful
That its readers are forced to intervene

Maybe raindrops trapped on door screens are living their dream

The garden twinkles and shimmers, moves and remains
This sky so black
Its fruit so trained
Even as it dips, tightens its belt, and occasionally falls
It's answering wishes from wistful droplets
Like myself.

And, like these gaseous gems...
Sometimes we fall for certain beings we feel are just as celestial.

Ifeanyi N. Okoro II © 2021
Rain. Heartbeat.
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