Black Poetry : just…playing (writing to Winner)

on my body i rub creams and lotions
my love is pure need no spells or potions
cause really this aint all that hard
when Him a protector and She a sweetheart
and popeye hold up a minute
I throw onions in my spinach
you can find a chef who make em plain
but i bet you her name aint Ki…Ki
oh shoot that’s me gazing at a horsey
vying to become a jockey
shrimp and grits is the small meal
I’m gonna have after trudging up this hill
set the table cute with berries and wild fruit
turn the wind down low as the birds sing
honeysuckles dance and dazzle like bling
in the creek water rushes over rocks
My Him washing his body hard and hot
Whoa, let me take it slow while i flirt
there are roses growing up through the dirt
Yelled into the wind
I love My Him
and Him stand tall
knowing i love NFL football
Sunday he carry on deep flirt
while on the couch i cheer Jalen Hurts
as my eyes beam cause the Eagles is my team
Him say, i got Dem (cow)Boys
She say, hush and i’ll let you play with these toys
Him say nothing else just thinking he blessed


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