Black Love
He is the skin that covers my wounds
The air that surrounds the moon
I am his star
He is my night
He is the darkness on my plantains
That makes them so ripe and sweet
He is my eyes reflection
In the night when I sleep
He is the keys on my keyboard
That I love to stroke
He is the dots on my watch
And I am the hand that’s on top of him every second and
Every hour in existence
I am his lighter
And he is my incense
He is the words on my page
That cannot be erased
And gets wiser with age
He is my BET
And my cup of tea
That I drink
As I sit here and think
About him whispering dirty little secrets
In my ear
Undressing my imagination
Arousing the sensations
Flowing through my veins
Causing the sensory nerves in my brain
To overload and explode
Into mental fragments of
Black love
Copyright © Latosha Mitchell | Year Posted 2014
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