The Door Flew Open
Her name is Bitter...
as was the deep-seeded pain
she buried in her heart
so firmly rooted within her spirit
none could tell she carried such a cross
She was
too important to be transparent
too broken to be alone
with that part of her that no on knows
except me
Her flunky, her understudy
her hand maiden, her fool
her cohort, her sounding board,
her puppet, her tool
I was spell bound.
Keeping her idiosyncrasies fully clothed
with false kindness
as I greeted the unsuspecting
in the gate of the holy place
Yet her exterior appeared to epitomize
what a woman of God should be
As far as man’s ideology reflects holiness
she was the shit
casting her spell on so many unaware
of the sores festering in her soul
but I knew, and still know
although
my lips were sealed
with tales never to be revealed
until
she peeled them apart
with her kiss
And the door flew open
nearly drowning me with emotion
and passion unrestrained
as she became
my...first...lady
introducing me
to the softer side of sensuality
while simultaneously
raping me
of my faith.
About Donna
We are all creative beings. Our artful passions can be expressed in numerous ways like singing, dancing, or writing poetry. These talents are not bound by age, race, culture or land borders.