The love and life cycle of a Black woman…
Your heart is a rose whose thorns
guard your loins
Your love is but horns whose thrust
inspire lust
Your vagina is a vineyard of
splendor divine
Your breasts nurture those whose
hearts do untwine
Your lips are like glue that
bind me to you
Your eyes are like diamonds
that heals those of blind men
Your tongue speak of languages
which languish in anguish
Your mind is a field to which
truth may yet yield…
Your gift is a mystery inherited
with each pregnancy….
(c) Menelik Charles.
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