The volumes in their eyes spoke Latin in French Tongues.
I laughed at the awkwardness so they couldn't see my tears,
roller skating past the dresses of leather,
raw shoes made from the skin hides of boars.
You came up behind me in silver shaded sunglasses,
with your smile of roses petaling pearls,
thick strands of dark, bitter chocolate hair,
melting down your back,
shouting violently In the native language of our ancestors,
that the big J they claim is theirs does not belong here.
I touched your arm trying to tame your fire branding throat,
from catching fire to there clothes of rumoring thievery.
As I touched you speaking in our own coded words,
the leather dresses changed to cotton pajamas,
the shoes of hogs changed to bare feet upon the sandy beaches,
we became speechless, everyone on the beach was silent,
Except for the girl on the balcony who started singing,
the song was Native to use but spoken in Latin, French Tongues.
YOU ARE READING
Climbing Up Out Of The Ashes
PoetryA Poetry Collection About The Dark Side Of Falling In Love With The Wrong Person And Making Your Way Out Of The Fire...Breath by Breath...Exhaling The Smoke & Breathing In Fresh Air Again. #100poemsin100days challenge beginning August 21- November 2...
