When the fatigued clouds in celerity,
walk against the sky's refrain,
and in fastidious frowns,
wails,
and her voice quakes the earth tumultuously like broken cymbals,
know that I was born to die if your kiss I lose.

When the night embraces the weary day and hearts torn forcefully apart from bosoms,
to the downpour of bitter tears,
ejaculated from proliferated eyes,
know then that your lips are meant for mine
and death, i shall embrace
if given elsewhere.

When you allow distance to drown our love,
killing it in the process
and understanding becomes infrequent and arduous,
know then that your love for me
is weaved in dwindling baskets
of oblivion
and this digs artistic graves for me..

ERNEST ENOH EYONG

OCTOBER 17TH 2017.