Rapture

I have seen yet another miracle under the sun, An eastern girl. A firefly that has brought light to my pitiable living.... Poetry like music is just another description of art a painter never had the words to say out loud, But in my case this is what happens when charisma plies against literature..... What if I told you my wrist is part of the arms that planted the Boughs of the forbidden fruit? And in my reveries,I write lustful poems like it's an addiction, Sin after sin. Or perhaps I write of love knowing I shall only taste it on stanzas and metaphors? It's this type of poems that feel like they were written for me.... But today I'm a lucky man, For there's a lass I wish to say my love to, love of it's purest form, Stand on mount Everest and shout her name for millennials like I'm on salary to do so, I'm not much of affectionate behavior But for simplicities sake....let me just say I want go on lavender candle dinners,hitch eyes until she's comfortable enough to talk about her insecurities, And if I was to die before her Bring me kwachas and ngwes...for I will need bus fare to find my way back to her, only rapture will do us apart.