By: Denise N. Fyffe.
Copyright © 2012, Poetess Defy, Denise N. Fyffe
Negril, she is like a poison
Slowly strangling my marriage, to Kingston;
Her curves and twist,
Like a belly dancers invitation;
She lures me,
Into her waiting embrace and succulent kisses.
Negril, she is like a cobra’s venom
Whispering future promises,
To lie on her white sand beaches,
Smelling, the nectar of her bounty;
Forgetting about Kingston.
Kingston, my first love
My rude bwoy;
He knew my corners best.
He knew my history through to my adulthood,
He knew how to trill me and piss me off,
At the same time.
But Negril, she lures me
Her landscape like the shapely hips,
Of a dancehall queen, bubbling to music,
As I salivate at her invitation.
Negril, she is my poison
A rebirth into a new life.
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