It Is Not My Lines
It is not my lines,
But words are borrowed books
We can't return.
My tongue speaks a language
My memory could not invoke
My history saddled me
With bagages
And some I will not open
For this Shango is no pandora
No one revokes the thunder
Or recall the spoken
Sound when the lips blunder
I kiss only by seduction
For why should I waste
My life
That enjoy sea lapping at my feet
To "think of you
Not thinking of me
Who is thinking of you"
Without a dream snug and sweet.
Copyright © L'Nass Shango | Year Posted 2009
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