POEM 277: PRIMA DONNA

Not a wastrel existing for the sake of it
nor another beauty thing for sickly-sweet tongues
to mime and rhyme about, behind noisy beats.
You're my prima donna.

Not another pawn in the game of genders,
nor a witty clown talking funny, walking funny,
you're distinct, dear lady
You're my prima donna.

I daresay how my thought transcends
from earthly planes into surreal mix of fact and fantasy.
I dare not wonder when this pilgrimage ends
You're my prima donna.

Your substance, the intimacy
who knows, who is, whose creature you are.
Angel made or God's handcraft?
My prima donna.

I live you from underneath your skin
I breathe in you and dread breathe out
I'm stuck with you, I surrender,
my prima donna.

You fill the deepest of my abyss
with ounce of bliss and a dozen wit
you're a rainbow lost in the moon’s allure,
my prima donna.

I was a teenager when I made that wish,
like Cinderella for her Prince Charming.
Now you are beyond what I'd wished
You're my prima donna.

#365DaysOfPoetry
#Pengician #SSA

Art by Art Station
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