funk

poetry

I’d probably love your must
I don’t think I’d mind it.

Loving somebody’s funk
Is a sure sign of true love
Diggin in deeper into
The crook of your arm in the morn
After we been sleeping for several hours–
Thas lovin deep.

Even when u say
Things that I think are problematic
I still want to nestle in that crook and shit and what kinda bullshit
Is that?

Even my principles are revelling in your must

I don’t know
How u fight that.

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