I recall glory’s fine form and figure feral,
Yes – I remember all too well,
Those black exotic mountain eyes,
Gleam diamond snow – I’m mesmerised.
When I was hypnotised by black mothers magic,
I forget to fake a death romantic,
Still, why should I forget the disgrace,
And vow to never again see your face?
What kind of a love is this my dear,
When you regret to have known me here,
Whilst I still waft in the memories of your scent,
Yes I can even taste your skin,
Both smack and lick – then kick,
Those butter-kissed popcorn lips,
I’m fathomed by purity, passion and bliss.
Yes, even with the witches’ magic,
Despite being made to eat crawling maggots,
Despite the spite, the spit, the cursing fights,
For how can I forget petty beauties plight,
Forget the cats? The rats? The baby mice?
The spilt perfume and Egyptian nights?
How can I forget when I forgot my strife?
And became the bride of Frankenstein,
Who still at deaths alter cannot decide
To regret a beauty, or forget a beast…?