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Samuel Okike
Student, Copywriter, Photographer, Poet, Philosopher @ Ibadan
Pants down
<p>Pants Down</p><p><br/></p><p>In the hush of a moonlit suburban street,</p><p>Where silence and secrets often meet,</p><p>A shadow slipped through a window wide,</p><p>With passion burning, he crept inside.</p><p><br/></p><p>The room was dim, her voice was low,</p><p>A whisper soft, like falling snow.</p><p>They tangled sheets, ignored the clock—</p><p>Not knowing fate began to knock.</p><p><br/></p><p>For while they danced in reckless sin,</p><p>Her husband's key was sliding in.</p><p>A jolt, a curse, the bedroom froze—</p><p>Reality struck like a hammer's blow.</p><p><br/></p><p>"Who the hell—?" the husband cried,</p><p>As our bold lover tried to hide.</p><p>But hiding fails when shame is crowned—</p><p>He stood exposed, with pants down.</p><p><br/></p><p>His legs went weak, his pride went cold,</p><p>No words could save the lies he told.</p><p>The woman wept, the husband swore,</p><p>A shattered trust, love's fatal war.</p><p><br/></p><p>He grabbed his jeans, half-dressed, confused,</p><p>His dignity, broken and bruised.</p><p>Out the door and into night,</p><p>Chased by regret and porchlight's spite.</p><p><br/></p><p>Let this tale be passed around,</p><p>Of lust that left him pants down.</p><p>For every thrill that’s wrongly won,</p><p>There's always light to shame the sun.</p><p><br/></p><p><br/></p>
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