black poets
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You asked me to touch you. With purpose. I watched you enjoy the feel of your own hands on your body. Until, in the dark, your tongue made your way around my nipple and my control melted. I came so hard the memory of it makes cum again. You went from 101 to 401 as
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Hey babe. Not to brag, but did you know my pussy has super powers? My pussy is the lazarus pit healing you, restoring you and giving you immortality that you may rise again and again and again. When you wake up, yesterday is just yesterday because my pussy was the spark to create the fire
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You never knew tears fell behind the wall Maybe you thought that because I was asking about you and remembering all the details of your life Listening Letting you find solace in me You were so wrapped up in my ability to make you comfortable that you thought that I was okay But I suffered
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Never was I into masochism Pain was never my thing Except With you, I had what Merriam Webster so eloquently calls “a taste for suffering” and my suffering must be seasoned with Lawry’s because it feels so damn good and I couldn’t stop partaking of its bitterness Because my imagination kept flagellating itself with pictures
Wandering & Wondering 