Musings On Make Believe

I’d imagine her hair is loc’d
and flows down her back
in the most masculine sea of femininity
she is brown skinned and beautiful
and unapologetically her

full of fire
like feisty
unafraid to get dirty
hands filthy
loves freely
I’d imagine I’d swallow her
(full of all of her)
she’d find me in front of her
begging for me to fuck her

and I’d touch her
I’d taste her
I’d take her to different places
with my body
my mouth
my fingers
my ins and outs

and beauty is brilliant
she’s book smart
will drink me in
if I let her

I’ve met her in dreams
in fantasies
she dances with me
I kiss her
she holds me
I say ‘baby, get to know me’
and she listens to my stories
writes poems about my eyes

she’s flirty
she’s funny
she feeds me
cuz I’m hungry
(for all of her fullness)

so we complement each other
my sweet to her salty
my hands belong on her body
I say ‘baby, come lay with me’
and I greet her arms
feel little in her arms

cuz she holds the whole of me
I hug the heart of her
we fight over politics
then make up in bed

I promise to accept the parts of her
that she gives me
touch my hands to her waist
drape my hair on her chest
we touch tongues and taste tips
I lose myself in her sex
tell her she’s the best

my lover
my baby
tells her bois I’m her lady
never ask if she loves me
cuz this is enough for me

beautiful and brown skinned
bold and brave
poetic and passionate
words fuck me like bodies
if her skin could talk
it would tease me
with similes
make love
with mouth full of metaphors

(she tempts me)
tell her I’ll grind on her body
pull her hair
if she lets me
(she gets me)

and that’s why I dream of her
maybe one day I’ll be with her
my fantasy
my make believe
my somewhere-out-there baby.

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