Aisha, do not focus on the ring.
Energy, romance racing through your jeans.
And down the hall, parents wishing they were dead
Because someone somewhere put a promise in your head.
"Does it feel alright? How does it feel?"
Nailed to the floor.
Your ponytail goes on for days.
Forevermore, you're lacerated, un-abstained.
Activity is enough
When activity is in love.
"Does it feel alright? How does it feel?"
These are my primitive feelings on sophisticated dealings