my luv
Don’t Want No Blues...
I don’t want to read
I want to write of the brotha
with toffee flavored skin
who saunters in
smooth penetrating purposeful
s
t
e
p
s
deep in voice and thought.
I don't want to listen
I want to visit the moment when
images compressed in my mind
are 3d’d into reality of
him n me n I don’t know
maybe a moment of sublime
treats n tricks that tick the
tock of this
fantasied tale of the butta
cream male and my feathered frock.
I don't want to wait
I want to will into being the
touch of two minds that linger
in subtlety n crooked lines
creased with stray crayoned
remnants of passion hue
blessed by the henna stoaked
russet bay you.
I don't want to have
I want to take whispers breezed
upon the waves of air born kisses
from his sheltered gaze...i want to
bend time to curl beneath the
fire blown ash of savage heat...
penned by moni(smoke)…ashe’
