Letting Life Lead
I think I should perish shackled in matrimony these seven years.
Upon my bed, your musk clings in the sheet folds and pillow dents. Your caresses linger in creases where polite tongues daren’t tread. Oh, fortune that propriety is not your forte.
Come tonight? My balcony waits.
Vulnerable on main
My personal stories and musings
Find BIG inspiration in the little moments
Poetry that purrs. It's reowr because the cat said so.
The Literary (or Junk) Writings of Leslie Muzingo
Poetry, History, Mythology
Confessions of a White Trash Hoe