my renaissance, poetry

The King’s Beloved (Àyànfé) 

Handsomely robed in splendour,

Clothed in beauty and enthroned in majesty,

He is the King, 

He is my King.

Yes, this is hero worship.

He’s so strong; mighty men shake at the sight of him,

He’s so powerful and influential; he is the King of all Kings,

He’s so filthy rich; he owns all the cattle on the hills. 

And he loves me! 

Gasp! 

Faints… 

I’m back! 

He loves me!!!

I can’t even get my mind around it sometimes.

No matter how much I get used to it I can never really be used to it. 

Little insignificant me. 

Sometimes I wonder who am I, that he is mindful of me, 

That he cares about me,

That he has my name engraved in the palm of his hand, 

He says that I’m the apple of his eye

Swoon! 

He’s so awesome! 

Cue dreamy sigh. 

I love my King and he loves me more.

This kind of love takes some getting used to. 

👑 the Kings Beloved (Àyànfé)  

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