Trinity Russell
I've been displaced from my living mother,
taken from her fashioned bosom,
detached from her kingdom of heaven, and sown into an array of chains
clasped around my poking veins and dangling feet.
Her full, potent bosom detached from my plump mouth,
carves reemits of her golden milk, which still lingers on the crevices of my dew lips.
I've been taken from the thickness of her lap,
it sedated my chocolate epidermis with adoration, affection to the highest degree.
Like a babe who rests her newly formed structures, I felt her lap wrapped around me like a well-defined porcelain bowl;
pressing my tiny ears against the glass of her bosom.
This peculiar lap signified her African heartbeat of power, of strength.
I would not fall.
taken from her fashioned bosom,
detached from her kingdom of heaven, and sown into an array of chains
clasped around my poking veins and dangling feet.
Her full, potent bosom detached from my plump mouth,
carves reemits of her golden milk, which still lingers on the crevices of my dew lips.
I've been taken from the thickness of her lap,
it sedated my chocolate epidermis with adoration, affection to the highest degree.
Like a babe who rests her newly formed structures, I felt her lap wrapped around me like a well-defined porcelain bowl;
pressing my tiny ears against the glass of her bosom.
This peculiar lap signified her African heartbeat of power, of strength.
I would not fall.
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