They hate to see us attached like this.
A sight they wish they could miss.
They gain momentum off of our baby mama; baby daddy drama.
There’s a friend in the universe called karma.
We dress in armor of love to supress the dirty image of what they see to be black love.
I value the things you say-
You’re beautiful my love with that big ole’ butt.
Knowing clearly I don’t have a big ole’ butt.
I’m incredibly insecure but you take my hand and give it a kiss of security.
You kiss my head and call me your queen.
Stumbled on the comments they make saying all black men are thugs who sells drugs.
Throwing slugs painting with bad blood.
The blacker the berry the sweeter the juice somehow some of that’s true.
I ran across a king like you turning all gray clouds blue.
We came to a world who argues we didn’t come from kings and queens.
Quickly they say we’re not worth the time of day.
In the events of arguing and crying we find a way to see this is worth fighting.
Two BLACKS from different walks of life conjoining two hearts.
This has to be the epiphany that black love still exists.-HonestlyFrank