(I Miss You, Derrick)
Emotions, sanction me, in abstract touch,
Feel his presence, hold his hand as such.
In the dark, relish pleasures, culpable delight,
Lost within, shivering at his touch so bright.
No potency to break free, he holds me near,
Perhaps I have lost myself, a cause to fear.
Survival uncertain, getting over, a maybe,
A razor perforates my heart, blood drips free.
Temerarious forsake, my heart bleeding,
“Take me, touch my places,” a moan proceeding.
Verbalizing nothing, bound in his hold,
Physically gone, yet he is my matter, bold.
Laying in tenebrosity, room vacuous and wide,
Ceiling examined, visions of you coincide.
Mission life aborted, a smile in the dark,
Telling me, optically, I will mend, embark.
Four years have passed, a testament to time,
Derrick, know this, in prose and rhyme.
No man congenially touches me, you see,
In pleasant places, the way you did to me.
© Ifedolapo Ogunniyi
2024
Ifedolapo Ogunniyi 