Read Poetry: Midnight poetry, Chisala Kataya

Tonight, I write about poetry.

Poetry that we made together at night.

That night you undressed, your pleasures now naked and I did stare, not at the geometry that is your curves. That math that fucks up my mind.
Before I left fucks inside.
Before I gave enough fucks to know you, and not in the sexual kind. Though that is to be expected of course, but I mean the rest.
And by the rest I mean her,
like that goldfish swimming in her bowl, freely not caring about whose eyes were watching.
But mine, right then, taking in her definition that is woman.
She’s well defined.
Like those panty lines I contemplated which side to push, before she pushed me away, before she let some body else in.
But me.
My other head was throbbing to the idea of being inside.
The words eating at my flesh like mosquitos…