Every time we kiss,
                    your lips,
                    leave me,
                    and my soul,
                   wanting more.

We smoked ****,
      you lite it,
      we smoked,
      we vibed,
      you let me come inside.
      Now, the love we made,
      will last us a lifetime.

You are my lover of the night, as you set my mind amaze.

Craving the juices of your fruit, and how flavor tastes.

writing a poem is hard when your soul contradicts the rest of you.
i say i love this woman and mean it,
and fear grips me, puts its finger on my lips,
and shushes me. tells me that neither of us
is ready, that i don’t know my own thoughts,
hopes, dreams, wants, needs, and their reflection
in the mirror of her stark blue eyes and soul.
that it’s all an imagining beyond my own soul
and comprehension, that i’m projecting
a long lost sense of helplessness and courage
onto her without consent because i seek
acceptances and intimacies beyond my worth.
and still, knuckle-deep in this hard, scathing noise is a truth i refuse to ignore.
i am hers in my entirety and only want to know
that she is mine— my soul contradicts
the rest of me but i faithfully **** it
and aim for the future i’ve hoped lives
in both of us.