He sat at the corner of the room helplessly. She stood in front of him. Her evening dress dancing swiftly to the night breeze. She smelt of lavender and roses. Her skin dipped in caramel and her eyes beamed like diamonds in the sands. She looked as beautiful as the rising sun on a cold winter’s morning. He sat with her in front of him, helplessly, though she was his.
They were together for about a year and a half and yet, he did not know the taste of her lips. Her lips were flushed red from the veins that shaped her mouth. Her mouth was full and ripe, promising a sweetness as sweet as nectar from a beehive. Even though they dated, he still did not know her lips. He felt helpless.
Her body was curved as the hills of her home village. A true African woman. He looked at her with eyes that went beneath her clothing. He hungered for her. Even though she was his, he never touched her.
He felt defeated and wondered why couldn’t he make the bold move. His friends never had this problem. They were fearless even with women that did not belong to them. He admired the virility that his friends had. Perhaps that is why he spent so much time with them. After all, he usually felt out of place whenever he was with his friends. However, he hoped that perhaps one day, he would have that virile sternness to take his woman by the waist and lead her to the land that flows with honey.
But until that time, he couldn’t. He remembers the cold stare of the last woman he held by the hand. That woman looked at him with the eyes of a demon. A demon that ate his soul and dried him of any virile energies that he had. He remembers that death stare. Every time he touches his woman, the demon awakes and ravishes his soul.
He looks at his woman with eyes of love and lust. She was a gorgeous woman who understood his plight. She was patient with him. She was loyal to him. Even though on certain days, she would wear her clothes loosely, exposing the succulence of her womanly body, her man would not be moved by her. She would get frustrated at times but because she loved him, she understood.
How lucky it is to have a woman who loves you. The love that is birthed from this woman slowly conquering the demon that has robbed him of his masculinity. Surely one day, he will be able to overcome the death stare of his first woman. Surely one day, he will be able to look into the eyes of his woman and find an angel. An angel that will invite him to taste the nectar that resides on her lips. When that day comes, he will be ready to be a man.
Until that day, he sits quietly; fighting the demon that destroyed his heart.
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