morphing,
from a caterpillar into a butterfly,
is not an easy period to sit through,
sitting would mean to be still,
to not be transient to what is around you,
to be stagnant in growth,
but this is fluidity,
lie,
fluidity would mean to flow like cream over strawberries,
but this experience has not been sweet for the tongue,
rather sour like bitter lemons,
with an obstacle course that seemed way out of my reach,
this morphing has been like alchemy,
metal being forced from one element into another,
this adjusment was foreign to my being,
was foreign to my spine which held me up for a year without falling,
foreign to the brown inside me that was rejected for years,
mentality not ready to cope with what was to be released,
amongst the change was you,
my technicoloured man with curls and dreads in his hair,
with structured face so beautiful cut by Gods hands,
I kiss every inch of skin on your face,
and I see how your your eyes blossom like roses,
how your heart glows in radiance of what has been gifted to skin,
your skin has become a temple I come to worship at,
daily I place offerings from my lips,
my hands play jazz as a prayer on your flesh,
the prayers offered relay a different affect each time,
I watch how your arms move, every vein emerging,
and how your eyes close with smile on your face everytime I place a kiss on your cheek,
I wonder what you see in me?
Do you look at me the same?
Or is this a one woman love?
A one sided love?