Me Poem by Thabani Khumalo

There should be no uncertain terms in and about life,
I say this in very strong terms.
I can feel it in my waters and am completely wary of it, I know I see it clearly.
The woman whose memory I had to skim off my head,
she paid me sporadic visits at my place whenever she had tears to cry onto my chest.
She was an alluring seductress and she put no ounce of effort in getting me into coitus.
Her presence alone dragged me down into succumbing,
I was rendered hysteric by the stroke of her fingers.
The soft feel of her body rendered me ill with side effects,
but I love me a woman possessed with nymphomania.

Before her I felt despoiled by a sexual seizure,
but it wasn't going to be long since she was caught by another.
She soon had to disappear into the lines of the atlas and went she somewhere where the pictures are light blue.
I'm dying to meet someone who will commiserate with me for my severe loss.
It is a loss in the magnitude of the Christian rite, of whom since Jesus died,
they are born bereaved.
Since she's been gone,
I've lost a soul in the process of waiting.
Even I have my life at a high speed.