Black Poetry : more stuff Him and Her vision

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beautiful visions play in my head
cause My Her upstairs in our bed
calling out my name
this is real not a game
we have crossed that bridge
have jumped love’s ridge
there She go again
whispering, come to me My Him

 

[$$RICH$$]

Nice and smooth
walking in this Love Groove
whispering soft to her I choose
flipping not a game
As him call ya name
coming sweet brown dip
Rolling up in this whip
In my vision tip by tip