all i got is poetry
she always listens and
if she had a physical form
she would get unlimited kisses.
i would make love to her, all in the kitchen.
she deserves every piece of me,
all my attention.
she doesn't complain about my forlorn disposition.
she encourages me when i feel like ventin'.
and if i was too depressed she became uplifting.
she was always there.
i might be finally in love,
i express myself to her & her
embrace is warm as a hug.
when we took a break she was
ready and willin to pick things
back up with a nigga,
she always saw my vision and helped paint the picture.
she never got jealous of the girls i told her about, she knew my infatuation would boil down into doubt.
and she loved the stories about my lustful encounters, like the time explained how i fucked in the shower.
she never lied and assured me
that no one could do her better than i.
i don't know anyone who made
me feel this way for as long.
whenever i'm alone i fall into
the echoes of her call.
