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 Mar 2016 Compromised
NuBlaccSoul
Till you can’t walk
Till you are sore,
Yet still smiling
from the thrilling experience,
Till you are sweating pleasure
from every pore.
Till your breath murmurs
my first name with every inhale
Till my voice is the only sound
your ears need to hear.

i would
rest my head on your breast
and listen
Enjoy the sweet tunes composed by
every noted word you harmonize

Tales of your life stories before they became entwined with mine
Narratives about your dreams
About who breaks your glassy heart
And what tickles your eye-ducts
into opening a flood of tears.

an inner world of wishes
she deserves beautiful things,
The Nubian Queen,
Sunflower Child.

~ New-Black-SoUl #NBS
inspired and dedicated to my muse - a banquet of beauty, a model of black excellence and a colourful character and a bubbly spirit. God bless her soul.
                           |
(c) 2016. Phila Dyasi. All Rights Reserved. Intellectual property of author.
Take my love but leave me the joy
Take my Heart but don't make it a toy
Take my mind but leave me reason
Take my passion, not just for a season
Take my name but leave my identity
Take my hand and hold me for infinity
Take your time like you're taking a picture
Take my actions, understand my gesture
Take my lips but kiss me not to death
Take my sigh but leave me some breath
Take my attention,just be my cynosure
Take my past and find me closure
 Mar 2016 Compromised
LadyBird
You were the Barbie jeep engineer.
You were the 5-card pinochle player.
You were the gripe to do the dishes.
You were the patient mall bench sitter.

You were Elvis Presley records and
paper backed crime novels.
You were my new antivirus software.
You were the chatter in the middle of an
NCIS episode.
You were the "It's okay, sweetie" on the
other end of the phone.

You were the voice of every bathtime storybook.
You were the baking soda on my first wasp sting.
You were the green Ford Escort parked
outside my middle school every afternoon.

You were the loudest clap at my graduation.
You were the sticky caramel corn crumbs in the
living room that held the place together.
You were the laughter

You were the toolkit when my pictures hung crooked.
You were the cornerback baker, the pecan pie maker,
dance recital seat saver and the road trip driver.
You were the puppy-dog pill-giver and the
broken heart mender.

You were the church goer and the goodness seeker.
You were the black-haired teaser and the
very best secret keeper.
You were a prideful wig wearer and
wheelchair rider.

You were a cancer fighter.

You were my first call.
You still are.
Person for sale

Able to:

Breathe quietly
Talk when needed
Wear acceptable clothes on work days
Use transport facilities in a timely fashion

Willing to:

Spend time with people
They don’t like
Set aside any feelings of
Boredom
Restlessness
Apathy
Disinterest
Disillusionment
Malais­e
Fatigue
Stress

And feign:

Interest
Enthusiasm
Concern
Delight
Contentment
Joie de vivre
Passion
Commitment

Willing to:

Sit stoically
In front of a square screen
Sending typed messages back and forth
Quietly count the days, months and years
As they tick by
Cover unsightly grey hairs
With unnatural dyes (at personal expense)
Spend hours in the same rooms with the same people
Use communal toilet facilities
Sit on trains
Day after day
Use caffeine and sugar
As the acceptable drug of choice

Prepared to scream out in silence
When it all gets too much

Person
For
Sale
12th January 2016

— The End —