Oh how I miss your ebony skin,
Silky & warm as liquid volcanic dust,
Hotter than the lost adolescent´s lust,
Black as bat curled up in Gothic steeple,
Of hot spiced pores, of my special people.
Oh how I miss your ebony skin,
As smooth as the African midnight rivers,
Caressing pathways, upon my map of shivers,
Black as the soft feathers, of old raven´s
plume,
As the velveteen petals, of night orchid´s
bloom.
Oh how I miss your ebony skin,
Of sweat-slicked liquorice, upon avid wet
tongue,
As sweet as plums, kissed hot, by the
tropical sun,
Black as sin & holy, as the nun´s sacred
wimple,
As the shadow of your lip, in soft smiled dimple.
Oh how I miss your ebony skin,
With aromas of mimosa & the fine desert rose,
As soft as bronzed fur, of feral beast in repose,
Black as silent sleeping, that arrives after
love.
Your beautiful skin, I feel below, around &
above.
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