There are men who ride with guns,
Men who have
Used their guns to kill
And would use them

And then there is you


You kill with your sweet tongue
Your eji
And those dimples that should be forbidden

When your recent conquest is crying and crumbling
As the fire in her eyes dies
Somber embers of amber
Yours take on a new shade of gold

The sound of a broken heart
Is a victorious drumbeat to you

Like horses riding home after a war.


Edited by The X, one of my consultants on anything poetry…
This one is for the Yoruba demons. Keep up the good work✊✊

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