Love In Mourning Cloth Poem by Stephen Olufemi Omolara

Love clothed in odds this much never have I seen
Or ever I found so shrouded in mysterious misery.
Wounds from Cupid's arrows in ages past fester.
Her heart ache with longing,
His sweat reeks corrupt desire.
What want they, within grab.
They must not because it is taboo!
It has been given to and taken by the passers-by
During the wait in the valley between.
Her eyes bore well of emotion within his heart;
his touch laced with lethal provocation.
Her voice, a hot knife journey through the butter called heart.
Won't you tell me your names?
That I may write your tale on the tablet of gold in my heart embed: .
A tale that forced my tail between my legs.
Tell it again, I beg of you.
That from this I may learn.
‘tis like on this path myself once found,
Love in mourning cloth.