The Thing In Your Face

It’s a fascinating runway
Where you strut your stuff
and show you’re buff. Thing.
Thinking of how it’s a runway.
That tarmac where you take off.
And leave all of them behind.
All the gnarly emotions
and all the tasteless songs
that can represent you no more.
Of all your curves it is this one
it is the most important one
this thing broken across your face
it is what gives me sunlight
and lovingly tricks my mind
to obey the torture of my heart
to believe. To do the hard thing.
To live. To want. To claim.
It is your place. You own it.
I call it home and don’t claim it.
It is the space where I find peace.
It is the thing that makes beautiful dirty
and dirty wanted.
It stains the perfect pains piled
behind the cupboard of your stories.
A mark of your beasts.
A totem of your struggles.
A poetry for your ugliness.
A strength for your wounds.
It is why you are beautiful.
This thing in your face.
Your smile.

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Published by: Akyempo

i met the Priest...i realised that though society seems to respect the baker and despise the shepherd, the baker is not happy despite his stability and the shepherd is free to pursue the pyramids, because he is a dreamer; and one day he will meet Fatima. I am the boy; the shepherd.

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