Charlene by Anthony hamilton

//terrell morrow

Your name was that of an Anthony Hamilton hit single, 2003.
We met like wildfire; you struck me as the en"lightening" type.

You're beautiful, but you don't hear it often so you say I'm superficial.
I say you're modest, and in such inner beauty you inspired me to write an ode to mirrors.
With you I reflected on my past. 
You couldn't relate, but that was something you and the new me had in common.
See you reflected and I deflected the dire defects in directive talks of sex in reflection of one another
See — I saw myself IN you, and I also pondered about intercourse as well ...

In three days you meant more to me than what was obvious.
In three days, with you I saw birth in perfect conversation.
We talked about religion and it was clear to me that you were a goddess.
In three days, I watched the sky cloak heavens existence after God graced you with an exit to let us coexist.

I don't believe in fallen angels, but I do recognize what flight looks like on solid ground when given the option worship angelic posture on pavement.
You're beautiful.

I remember my first impression of you:
the megapixels on my computer screen couldn't quite completely manifest the contours your gorgeous face possesses.
I remember thinking, if sneezes weren't the only time I'd honestly admit to god's blessings, seeing you — meeting you, would be
FBI bully interrogation meets frantic loose-lipped Urkel — because I swear, the lord almighty himself got me to testify.

There was too much at stake.
Earth itself was hanging in the balance ...
I had to meet you — Haitian goddess in blue maxi dress,
Eye of Horus necklace on chest,
and voice of sweet symphony pleasure piercing mind body and soul of me.
You are soul of me, you are replica of god's whim, you are clear-cut direction down Moses's path, you are Heaven's Gates' glory, and life.
You are Cinnamon Toast Crunch on  Saturday mornings, you are climax cloud 9 intercourse, but most of all — you are proof, that heaven exists somewhere.

So forgive me if it's not okay to forget you,
forgive me if I only find tranquility in your smile,
forgive me if perfect is the only adjective that can suffice for your impeccable characteristics,
forgive me; I am repenting to the god that I believe exists in the conversations we share ...
See I found religion in being faithful to you
and I'm sure; if every sinner had an Anthony Hamilton Hit to call their own — this world would be
a much better place.

//Terrell Morrow is an Aquarian performance writer, recording artist, barber, and InsideOut poet. Check out his music here.

This piece is the third of a four-part series. To view the first piece (published in Issue VIII), click here; to view the second piece (published in Issue IX), click here.


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