Silk Sheets

Love, lust, desire and all that spicy sweetness in between. The hopeful romantic in me invites you to indulge.

Stewed Thighs

I know the part of the glass skies where all spicy sauces are first stewed. I could lick the back of your raised brown, fat dimpled thighs like the delicious okada stew they are, all day.

Your moans, are soft like bits of ponmo,

sweet like bits of smoked fish,

orgasmic like that first bite of shaki

soaked with peppery, tomatoes puree fried in red palm oil, red like my love.

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Heart Growth

“Maybe if we were closer. It would be different. But we are here now”.

When she touched my hand, all the tiredness, anger, disappointment slipped out my grasp. I whispered my name twice then shouted in my head, ‘you are in love but in trouble’.


I wasn’t even this way. She fell in deepIn love. When someone you care about falls, you also fall to catch them.


When it comes to love, babes are babes.

Yo! I’m me and I don’t do that..but

I woke up thinking of her. It was so weird. I felt my heart grow towards her.

And now, she just… This is worse than heartbreak. It’s like my heart stopped. The day she called, requesting we see and talk. My heart beat a small melodious beat. I was so thrilled but ashamed. I’d betrayed my anger. I was in pain but not in silence. Alte rhythms vibrated in me when she drew me closer for a deep kiss.

It’s painful but I’m still kind, supportive from a genuine place of love.

Love is kind. No, love is love. Just that, love is love.


Muse: West African boy. In my upcoming collection of 13 stories and poems about love, STAB LOVE WITH FLOWER STALKS, one poem introduces the reality of a growing heart. However, Heart Growth is not an excerpt.

It’s 20 more days to the release of Stab Love With Flower Stalks on Okadabooks. Please download the app on Google Play Store to get access to the book on its publication.

This is how you die young

This is how you die young

You are driving at a steady speed entering the empty expressway then climbing the harmattan shrouded bridge.

You don’t see the large porthole and ramp into it.

You were thinking of her,

And how the many stabs of doubt,

And his inaccurate accusations of infidelity

Stopped your heart two hours before.


This is how you die young

By the searing palms of lust squeezing your heart as she undresses glowing chocolate curves. A peach dress then burgundy lace lingerie whisper to your office tiles.


This is how you die young

Of a heart attack as she sucks conviction

Out your dark nipples, fondling their full breasts though you moan and beg.


This is how you die young

A lesbian in denial that closes her “straight” gaze whenever my roving fingers she aches, arches and begs for,

Pluck, caress, smack, thrust, stroke and worship her.


Death is to deny your truth,

But to die young is to passively live in your truth.

This is how I killed you with ecstasy,

And this transfiguration of pride looks better than your new fender.

Say You’ll

There are 3 ways to cage a soul
for eternity.
‘Say you’ll be mine forever’
‘I’ll be yours’
This is the second way
and the most effective surrender from love.
Can win one, time. Endless time for whatever.

‘Say you’ll be mine forever’
When she whispers this while you pant.
Her voice dampened with mist from lovemaking.
Say nothing. Kiss this cage back into her throat.

END


I’ve began a queer story thread on Twitter, LOVE OUT Q (Quirky Glow Gem @AdaezeFeyisayo). If you want to read queer erotica and musings, etc follow me by clicking on that name.

Yes, yes, I know my handwriting isn’t here.