Give Me Roses by Jason Makwein Nkwain

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Give me roses while I can still smell them

While the blood still hums jazz tones beneath my skin,

rugged and riotous like 1930’s freedom filled Harlem clubs.

If you are to love me,

Love me as if my last name is now, as if everything we do

after this moment will be a cheap imitation of when our eyes

first glowed with each other’s reflection.

Love me as if there’s an apocalypse waiting to chaperone us into tomorrow.

As if together our heartbeats are a harmonious  symphony composed by God himself.

If you are to love me,

Love me not as casket, but as cradle,

Love me not as corpse, but as the courage we birthed

amidst trials, and trails, and the tears that almost drowned our futures.

If there be a drought while I breath, then let your words be seed,

let my chest be a fountain, let’s spring forth a garden,

let the petals swallow the soil whole, and let’s walk this Earth absent regret.


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