Flesh and bone, marrow and muscles, you taste like sanctification, rhythmic blues, and sancocho. I want your soul. In exchange I will make you the Queen of Sheba. Wisdom trickles down the carvings of your body, made of onyx and ivory. I saw this with the Most High voice, lust never knew what to do with you. You taste, taste of milk and honey, sound like conch shells, smell like volcanic ash and papaya. Queen of Sheba, the half demon mother, I will make you sweet of mangos and tamarind. Whisper the Bible in your ears, you’ve told me you love fairy tales. This a banquet for your beauty. For your holiness. This is Daawat-e-Ishq (Feast of Love) give you this body for your soul. all of your soul, deep enough to taste the Atlantic when your ancestors came across the continents. I love you


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