"Do you know of
the hours I
spent straightening my
tangled black hair...?
Or the thousands I
spent taming my
curly locks...?
Do you know of
the ages i
spent in front of a
dishonest mirror...?
That lied and lied again about my beauty
Within...?"

And He replied...

"Don’t you know
those curls are a treasure,
My sweet friend...?
When I play with them at night...Again and again...
Wrap my fingers around them...
feeling your original curly sin..?
Don’t you know
those curls are a pleasure,
My sweet friend...?
As they tickle my
soul in their
sinuous intent...

I want to mess your
black hair...
Into a wild naked disarray
curls and more curls..
Spread them with my hands...
Bury myself
in their heady perfume...
And I won’t let you...
No, I won’t let you
Defile those curls...Ever..."

If my Muse spoke...