Who Would Fail The Finals?

Ask yourself before you ask her again
“Do I deserve it?”
We both know you didn’t mean it
That you would “stand by the side of the altar”
Let me make this clear for her
She doesn’t need your altar to get to her pulpit
She’s set to build her own podium
Because she has potentials to scrape the sky,
Become the first skyscraper that ISIS would fiercely fear
This handcuff is for you and her
It binds your hands at equal levels
Her end is not lower neither is yours
She’s got it at her bottom
Your valley is at your bottom, not at your top
So why should hers serve yours,
When the bow valleys should serve each other?
Her wedding gown would be twice as important as your suit
Her flowers would be just as important as your ring
Her tiara would be no less respectable than your tie
You would not have to pay for her hair
Because it grows from her scalp, not your hands
There is another way to prove that you love her
Acting out for no witnesses,
Carry her and tell her she’s the one
Promise to make her feel like the one
Not the one to serve you
But the one to love you
And the one to be loved back twice as much
Your bed is not ready
Your sheets are away in Rome
So if she says you should wait,
You surely should wait
Yes, because she says so
Don’t dare break her heart
Cause when you break the handcuffs
You would not find a better woman
But she shall find a better man
As my patient platonic would finally turn erotic!

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A young man who is in love with his female platonic friend warns "the other man" not to play boss, otherwise, the former perhaps, could make a better husband. This poem is original to the Author of "I Call My Sexuality My God: My Shampoo and My Watermelon Juice": Victoria Ifeolu