To My Future Ex-Wife Poem by David Olusanya

The truth is better served when it's hot,
before it's cold and the tongue gets rot.
There is no more greater pain
like denying the truth for a brief gain.

Life might be a bed of roses,
but soon it shall flog like the rod of moses.
The truth you're wise to keep today,
shall soon be foolish to make you a prey.

Thus I thought to bake this bread;
to confess my sin, to save my head.
To make me worthy of the last call
and uphold my soul, when my flesh shall fall.

This is a sincere letter of apology
to my future former lady.
It is a truth that's hard to tell,
but I better confess to save me from hell.

When I said you were my life,
I was just in haste to have a wife.
I had to tell such a lie,
'cause my libido would not stop to cry.

When I said I would die for you,
heaven and earth knew it was not true.
I was obsessed with your bold backside
and the texture of your breasts- so naturally magnified.

To be candid with you my dear,
all I wanted was just an affaire.
I wanted to consume your delicious lips
and nest my hands around your hips.

My dear, love is far beyond confession.
It is not a custom, norm or tradition.
Love is not an ecstasy of having.
Love is the reality of being.

This truth might be early or late my love,
but holding it have made my heart dissolve.
It is best served at this time,
to embrace the reward of my crime.

I'd plead that you behold me with clemency
to save my skin from tragedy.
But if I'm far worse for you to forgive,
I hope our divorce would be a relieve.

David O. Olusanya