A-B-C’s of My Love for Black Women (Queens)

A-B-C poem that details MY love for the Black Women (Queens)

A-B-CS’s of My Love for Black Women (Queens)

Always acting abnormal. Absolutely abducted my affection and abandoned me with abulia.

Born a blessing. Baited your boo to bail Babylon but binding us both in a beneficial big bang of bar-b-q, barefeet, bathtub and bedroom benevolence.

Cute, courageous, calm, collected. Cooking cabbage, candy yams and cornbread in the cabin. My Calypso and Cleopatra.

Delicate yet deadly. Like, daiquiris and dynamite. The delicious damsel in distress I would die to dance and dampen at dawn, during the day or after dark.

Eager for that eruption of excitement each and every time we elevate each other to explosive ecstasy eclipsing everyday events

First and foremost, you are the fantastic factor of all my forthcoming fantasies. Forcing me to face my fears and I refuse to fail facilitating the fabric of whatever stressing you.

Gorgeously glorious. Got me gagging at the thought of gallivanting for other womens’ gadgetry for her gadget is golden. What have I to gain playing that game?

However, I would habitually hallucinate over your hands, eyes and hams while handcuffed to the headboard by your handiwork after a hangover than to hammer at some happy harlot’s harbor.

Ice cream kisses can’t be imitated but they illuminate my ill-fated incidents and ignorance. With you, the inception of impossibile is increasingly incomprehensible.

Joyfully jumping before I jackknife with jubilation to the sound of our juicy jam sessions. As you jaunt about in jazzy jeans, jeering stops. Jaws drop. Jerks are jealous.

Kindness keeps me in the kettle. You possess the key to my heart’s keystone; feeling like I’m a kindergarten kid again. Give you a kidney if you need because you are Queen Kingpin of my Kingdom.

Lady, I’m lucky to be lost in the labyrinth of love you labored to lay. Leaning my head in lap, I launch to lands where laughter is law.

Maybe we’re made to match. Does it matter? My main concern is meticulously mastering her majesty’s major mandates.

Naturally, I’ll nature my nymph’s needs. Never neglect and when necessary, negotiate. Playing with your nose, navel, or nibble the nape of your neck at night.

Oh, of course, I’m obligated to open my heart, that’s my oath. Obedient but never obsess over occupying space as the only onlooker.  

Precious. My promise is to pacify, protect, please, pamper and purposely place us in a paradise of power.

Queer how quickly my Queen’s quicksilver quotes quenched my questions and qualms.

Radiating rainbows without rain. Rapidly raising and rallying my ravaged spirits after rampant rashes of random bullshit.

Sooner sacrifice my safety than simply sample the sight of my sacred sad. Seriously shooting at super sized stars to sweeten what sours.

Tankard of tantalizing, tailor made talents include talking, touching, tasting, teasing and timely teamwork.

Ultimately, I’m under a unique, unbreakable spell that I underestimated and now understand.

Validating with vigor that you’re valued as my valentine of virtue.

Waiting to walk with you for weeks and wondering if you would wonder with me through this wilderness.

X-rated thoughts? X’d out.

Yearning for you to overstand what I’m yammering and yapping about. What I would yield for you.

Zealous and zany I am so with you, we zoom into any zone. Zap, we home.

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