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A River Runs There

C. Davis @mrs_mesha_davis

Image by C.Davis



The fleshly object of man’s desires,

Has lips filled with honey, hips drunk of wildflowers.

Breasts full and shaded, by course onyx hair,

Seduction, overflowing—A River Runs There.


Thighs intricately sculpted, like they bore droves of slaves,

Freckled sunbaked arms, map the paths of her ways.

Brown-bourbon eyes, fancy, long lashes flared,

Most bewitching, when she walks, yet—A River Runs There.


Complexion of toasted caramel, rifts adorn her spellbound smile,

Commands the knees of imploring men, to cower there a while.

Her voice softened over, like a Siren’s silk-spun air,

Enchanting, Vixen, Succubus, indeed—A River Runs There.


Hypnotically soliciting, the perfection of her touch,

Does she blind the eyes of dreaming men for sacrifice and such?

Inebriating poison, her victims merciless in prayer,

The devil finesses, her fingertips, though—A River Runs There.


Enticing milk and honey flows, from within her inner thighs,

For men who hungrily indulge their thirst, both far, and near, and wide.

Liquor drunken and clouded favors, empty their pockets with fare,

When friends become strangers, and exist no more, still—A River Runs There.


Empathically absorbing, the company, she has kept,

Midnights, long in number, does she exhaustingly accept.

Tantalizing the superficial is nature to her affairs,

Yet endless pain of remorse’s shame, whisper stories—A River Runs There.


A rose guilty of counterfeit worth, harbors refuge in her thorns,

Silently doffs midnight’s dress, so regret may cling into her arms.

Reflections of rose-tinted cheeks, in mirrors, does she stare,

Life drowned in quenching waters, yes—A River Runs There.


Consuming currents enslave her mind, as a perpetrating Queen,

For no one knows the guilt she feels, when minutes become routine.

Satin sheets embellish her bed, of loveless nights spent where

Stains and wrinkles, unwelcomingly linger, but—A River Runs There.


Nightmares often haunt her thoughts, when at night she dreams,

Hopefully wishing her life of secrets, were not as they had seemed.

Echoing prayers flood her soul, conviction is more than she can bear,

Yet late in the hour…that midnight hour, she’s reminded—A River Runs There.


A river whose power can navigate, from conception till after birth,

A stronghold so might with waves so deep, she’ll drown in her own worth!

A river, that will sanctify, a heart and soul despaired,

She baptized her burdens in the river, deep, and knows—A River Runs There.


The ebb declined her under, the flow offered her rebirth,

Her life, once stolen, is now returned, as a sacrifice to the soils of earth.

Organic water dripped from her body, as she rose and ascended into the air,

Her feet golden, and now planted in the ocean, where for too—A River Runs There.


Delicately was she situated, on her throne newness had begun,

Where her body was cloaked in yellow ribbons, from the fire of the sun.

Divinely she sat in Queenliness, and envisioned life pure, and rare,

But unforgetting, her soul still remembersA River Runs There.



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