Haute Couture Lady Poem by Folayemi Akande

</>If I would not believe,
what then is my faith like?
Standing bear naked with no remorse
under the guard of your smoking eyes,
I could be faced by the odds of perfection
and the certainty of growing old in wandering days,
but at the aplomb of your bridling tongue
and the luscious desire to your dangling breasts,
I would humbly submit to the powers of your adorableness,
If your allurement were no crime,
The roulette would be no man's nightmare and the cold gate of hell would entertain the finest of smiles,
How low to be chide by the whips of your incense in my childish fame,
What a nostalgia, not the type i would defile at these prime,
I am indeed appraised by the black spell,
Accustomed by your irresistible sensual ease,
My chest is hot and fast to rot
When your speckling dangerous eyes dances,
i see the incarnation of gracefulness,
Contrived from your incendiary touch,
I would call if not behest of you,
To come: Let our lust betide under this monument,
Let us fill our orgasm with more bewildering incentives,
gasoline in short supply
And so, the dusky night gives pass to our dismal.
After all, the love is lust,
And lust is pleasure wherefore,
But pleasure plagued virginity,
And now, mother Mary is cursed to shame at her bosom,
Because, virginity is now a bidding to merchandise,
And gracely uncommon,
A picnic in a boscage
With a sorceress i may call goddess, isn't that rather incongruous,
The basswood will mourn,
The falcon would be bereft of nursery rhymes,
the garrulous wind shall whistle no more
And the multicolor strands of our dastardly flaws shall further not be mucked by the peeping rainbow,
Behind the obscure Arno
after these wild reserve i depart,
For i am but one of your beau captives whose believe in you, my sorceress is at no bounds.