I sit back with thoughts of her
That leave me at peace
Like Grover Washington tunes
On Sunday afternoons.
For her safe return.
Back to my arms.
Where she belongs
So that I may make love to her telepathically
Even though the physical is mind blowing.
I wonder if she's knowing or feeling the same thing that I,
Love the spirit of this woman to the point whereas
I yearn for her like open waterplugs on 90 degree days.
I'm a slave to the rhythm that makes her heartbeat,
And hips shake.
The way her hypnotic walk gives me a sugar rush from the way those
Seemingly cinnamon coated legs walk down the Boulevard
Commanding the attention of every testosterone driven individual;
And I fall right in line.
Did she get those thick full lips
That leave me mentally drained
After each and every thought of kissing,
On the gates that lead to the softest spoken words
That drive a brotha totally insane everytime I hear my name.
Please get a hold of yourself
I try to say
To the voice inside my head that tells me
That crumbles this 6'7 frame
When she sets those mahogany eyes upon me.
It's apparent that I'm transparent
Because she looks inside of me
And sees my soul.
She illuminates the essence of this young man of color
As I see clearly from the blinding spectrum that is her love.
Complete whenever I hear her name
Everytime I try to speak it.
It's a feeling that needs to be bottled and sold
As a remedy for lost souls,
And antidote for lonely hearts.
The hell said that love does not exist
For those that have given up
Because they won't get to experience the
April showers that
Make me forget about the surrounding world.
Everyday the sun rises is the best day of my life
As long as she blesses it with her presence.
She is my present from God
That allows me to celebrate Christmas every
I love this girl.