My Hot Black Love, Or, Ode To Java - Poem by Lori Boulard
HIS name? Please. What man
among us lives solely for
the touch of your lips
and the “mmmm” that oozes
only if he’s really good?
No, my love is ready for me
waiting patiently for my
Soothing every injury
Smoothing every edge
Offering clarity in a blurred existence
Inspiring me to face my fortune
Mi amor, unlike mi men, judges not
the words of my lips,
travels impeccably well,
and sets my heart’s pace each
and every morning.
and he’s calling my name.
Comments about My Hot Black Love, Or, Ode To Java by Lori Boulard
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
- Still I RiseMaya Angelou
- The Road Not TakenRobert Frost
- If You Forget MePablo Neruda
- DreamsLangston Hughes
- Annabel LeeEdgar Allan Poe
- IfRudyard Kipling
- Stopping By Woods On A Snowy EveningRobert Frost
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And WeepMary Elizabeth Frye
- I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love YouPablo Neruda
- TelevisionRoald Dahl