click to follow

Tuesday 22 May 2018

NOW, THE PAST AND THE FUTURE UNDER A SHOWER.

It's 5:33 PM and rain drops are crashing on my window.
I'm in the shower where I often think the most clear and the world often spins slow.
Big Brother's wedding is in a lil' bit, all I can think 'bout is what if it was me getting hooked for life.
David Asikpata Omoighoje found a woman and he found a wife.
It sends a shiver down my spine and now I know probably how big brother must be feeling.
Alittle nervous I suppose.
A life long commitment whom no one can oppose.
The water takes a journey to the bathroom floor via my torso and I begin to imagine my own wedding.
I don't really dig it big, but it's her day so lets bang the drums and make loud sounds.
From the altar I gaze upon the aisle and behold she emerges in flowing white.
If the choir could sing EdSheeran's perfect it would magnificent, I'm by the altar in a burgundy suit with black lapels thinking to myself that my queen is indeed a beautiful sight.
I'm focused on her and somehow the congregation fades away.
In my head am reciting my vows, hoping to spit 'em like a rappers bars when I finally say 'em.
It is such bliss which I can't just waste with just any miss.
My mind drifts to the women who would probably point to me and say I led them on.
I put it all on the table before we went ahead to do what thou wilt.
For most of them I'd probably say it's a shame our love went on tilt.
No fault of mine that's why I always tried to keep it real.
Like a highlight reel it all flashes in front of my face.
She who would point fingers at me forgetting we were often cut up by so many states.
We desired each other and of cos we were knee deep on something akin to what y'all call love.
She always thought she was in the boat alone, and I like a puppet master joyfully pulled her strings.
I guess at my wedding that would all be in the past and like Prince Harry I'd joyfully invite my ex-es without bad blood.
The reception gonna be lit and something tells me by that time I'd be into roses for some wierd reason.
Dance Dance Dance Season.
I sure hope she can rock the dance floor else that would mean I'd be taking two trophies home.
It's 6:13, I am fully clothed now, legs crossed on my study table.
I can solely conclude now and this is in no way a fable.
Love is sweet and weddings are always beautiful.

No comments:

Post a Comment