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I secretly love you
for the sake of your name
without you knowing
I pass you as i pass anyone
yet your my only one
I adore you and i'm hiding
as a question mark
not feeling my surrounding
posted as an outlaw
numbered with thieves
a broken totem pole
no roots no fruits no visitors or leaves
What a woman !!
I almost died to know your name
The one you gently taught me
With cunning lips of thirsty flame
A mantra of eyes that caught me
What a woman!!
Let me be your coming error
the one you admit and never regret
To be the man within your mirror
Who hands to you a black outfit
What a woman!!
Your eyes are dazzling dragonflies
hovering on shivering clover leaf
Storm of thousands of fireflies
Two blue cichlids on verdant reef
What a woman!!!
Bayo's the last of his people
The only guard of their farm
The living sun of their life
  They are tattooed on his arm
Holding his wife and his knife
Waiting for her to give birth
to queen kandake  of the Nile
  She'll lead the tribe to new earth
With hope and wisdom and a smile
Bayo's the last of his people
He will live for what he dies for
standing  as firm as a steeple
a crouching  panther by her door
chewing on corpses to hand you this rose
seeking the bones of ancestors
to know why the embryo is deformed :
We tend to flee from  our suspicions
to be preyed on by what we know .
when we sleep we are within his hand
when we wake up
our illusions about him wakes up too.
love is the endless you.
the oldest we
the perfect she
the I-less I
and is the deepest sudden sigh
I long  to someone I don't know .
to something about to happen
your eyes are the hidden green fire in smooth stones of the valley
the giant sprit of Charleville
The call of mighty Rimbaud.
crawls beneath my skin like a warm wind
I was about to give up
till  I saw a promising smile like a lily glowing in the deepest darkness  of my soul different from all lilies of the Ardennes
when light and shadow share your face, justice bleeds all colors
when you smile the sun beneath my skin cracks a pomegranate
red garnet comes to life.
this tango of lights ripens  my  heart as a fig,
crowded with seasons ,
on your fingers I counted my absence and my presence
  when i think of you. ,you are the tribes in my voice
every mom like every city has her unique smell and yours is the smell of life, Mom
What is in your hand?
is it bleeeding or just a rose flower?
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