Conceited
OMAYMA BAYRE
Written By L. Phillip-Moore
A Maker’s World Poetry CONCEITED COLLECTION
CONCEITED COLLECTION
Once my admirer, yes my antidote. When the epitome of my Soul is weary She loved me always Even when I was low and lonely When I was high she made love to me, Never when I was low That would be to take advantage Of someone in a needy place. It did not have to be everything As long as our souls where present. She never tried to conquer me, Overthrow me or embarrass me. She just kissed deeply without regret She made me know what it was like
To know someone who is loyal and private.
She was my duvet on that stormy and hard rainy night. She was my souls queen. She was my hearts desire. She is my minds ideal. She was always so focused on whatever her business was, She never needed me she fulfilled every opportunity. Oh my! Again young mother again You manage to rise above the perceived imaginations that opposed you. You are a political fighter. You are the divine righteous and I am the sublime writer. Our love is so conceited.