in praying positions
I realise how looking back
at our conversations
in the same bed
that auctioned my body
to you,
even though my tears,
in the company
of my four walls
indisputably proved
to be the highest bidder...
but listen carefully
as my maleficent words,
escaping just beneath
my breath,
tap into your soul...  
until your lungs
know nothing else
than to breathe
the air of me...
until the insides
of your eyelids
morph themselves
into traces and features
of my face...
maybe then you'll really see
the blessings bestowed
upon you...  
and count them
as often as you blink....  
They say let he who has no sin cast the first stone
so here I am...  
as white as the bedsheets
I've left the old sinful
pieces of my soul in
purely resurrected from
the acts of sin
we executed last night...
young lost king
embodied by nothing more
but a sense
of you needing me
I will name and shame you
within this poem
until the thought of it
hunts down your dreams
until they haunt you
and you can do
nothing more but
pray me into your dreams
just enough for you
to find your way  
back into mine
so I can dream you
into my existence
-thembekile kilay deh'poet Tsaoane