So there you’d stand
By the baobab tree,
Shirt in hand,
Buttons set free,
Eyebrows drawn on (in a too dark black)
Like you were
Mourning.
And though
The slick of blood red
Made your nails too honest to hide
And the same blood red
Clung to your lips,
Like a vampire in the night-
I quivered at the sight
Yet my own blood rushed.
So I hope you can’t see me below the baobab,
With my eyes bewitched,
With my lips leaking drool.
You sparkle and glitter
In my mind’s eye… clad in paint or au natural
And I stare, unashamed, up your tights
Staying far too close to the baobab tree.
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