A real love

[Ebony T. Johnson]

A Real Love


A real love is not hidden.

A real love is not shame.

A real love is not lustful, for lust is all consuming and can never be satisfied.



Lust is an unquenchable thirst. Like oceans longing for the rain.

I am waiting for love to find me and take me up in high places away from strange faces and pain.



I am waiting for love to rescue me from all the wayward spirits that would keep me enslaved to bitterness and unrest. I am waiting. And I keep moving... praying to be found in that good place of contentment.

That place of real.



That genuine and rare fruit that I long to taste that blossoms from out of that tree which is found planted by the rivers of living waters.



A real love is joy overflowing with laughter from the deep places within me. Real love



Real love comes to crown me in glorious purple victory.

I am waiting because I can see it in my dreams and within my walls.



This love presses forward and is not afraid. This loves stands for what is right when it looks all wrong, when it looks hopeless, hopeless. This love sounds in my ears and speaks of perfected stillness.

I am waiting.

I am holding out.

I am expecting.

I am dancing. I am flowing. I am still inside of me.



I am patiently perfected flowing and holding still, still in my dance while I am waiting for a real love, real love, real love.



Realness in my love.

Poetess- Ebony