Pro-Creation (2)

(Image Source: Google)

 

Your sperm ravelled my emotion
Glaciating the reception of my prosthetic ovum,
like the discarded verses of Troubadour,
sliced and dumped in myths;
They gave birth to me,
A viable heir,
Long before you started your coursework!!

I could feel an impetuous fluid,
That fooled the colour of your bed-sheet;
The ink by then, knew my name,
Orchestrating a carnival
To quench the void that deprived my poem,
Written long ago, and now,
Filling in the blanks with your sperm.

You carry it in your pocket
with the power of your specs,
They bring the perfume of my sweat,
You felt once rectifying my mistake,
Shifting the indent,
I moved a little bit— closer!!

Your sperm performed the incision,
Drawing my blood, it infuriated the pain,
A flustered pain that lost its way,
Between the sweat of my thighs, weary;
You prepared me with a theory;
Injecting your cognition,
In the playground of a verbose soul

I was nurturing all alone.

My ovum, you cuddled
In the introduction
Where the muse changed role,
Revealing a submission.
A silent night and an auspicious fear,
As the sun grasped the wilting flower,
Waiting in solitude with petals dropping down,
Preserving the honey,
In a rhetorical letter.
Your saline penetrated my thirty clitoris,
Comments marked in red;
Your name slept beside me to become my hubris;
While they only know the size of your bed;
While they only know how you snore,
And how you reach out for the lantern;
I know, unlike them, how you pick your quotation,
Forming your own with mine;
Oh beloved, for you, I wish
To discard the ruthless platonic bliss;
But you can keep the ring and give it to them,
I write in peace, I write in contempt,
A happiness they will never learn,
As I bloom in our engagement,
Your and mine in our publication!!

#Day12 #Poem12

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