Malcolm

he knelt before the alter dressed in white

waiting for her: ms. right

she gave him her adolescence

followed by her innocence

and left him burning in scents

so that his angel wouldn't fly away

or that's the shit he used to say

now he knows that with the soft beauty of her precious

rose

came thorns.

came hurt, came pain, came lies.

he used to marvel at her hazel brown eyes

and send promised laced prayers into heavenly skies

and hope that she would stop cheating

repressing thoughts of consciousness being right

he poured himself into her every night

only to have her fade away with the morning sun light.

physically, he let her go

materially she held him for dear life

and he kept hoping that she would be his wife

every time he handed her his visa

telling his friends she was his Mona Lisa

while

she robbed him on levels he didn't think he would need

now he stands beside her

as provider to

another mans seed

 

dear Lord grant me peace...and from that peace may

there be truth.