Undress me on Sundays after church,
My tired soul desires to intertwine with yours,
Such desires and sins,
I don't even believe in a goddamn god,
But if God was a woman,
I'd see her in you,
And in your flesh I'll leave scratch marks of ink,
Maybe the quill forgot her beloved ink,
Can't you see love?
I'm trying to etch you into my poems,
I'm trying to give you immortality,
And all the writer asks from the protagonist,
"Don't be the protagonist",
Be a side something character,
I know writers should kill their protagonists to go to the next chapter,
But I think as a writer, I'm falling in love with my own character,
So run, run far away,
Disappear into words,
Hide inside paragraphs,
My pen doesn't have any mercy,
It's already bleeding ink,
Counting letters until it finds you;
YOU ARE READING
30 Days inside a mind of a Lesbian Woman
PoetryAloka Wijesinghe, a South Asian spoken word, freestyle lesbian poet currently based in Melbourne, Victoria found a totally random collection of prompts on the net, where she for each day painted its walls in different hues of First time love, Death...
