Between the sheets

I long to feel the grains in your texture.
 Turning, flicking, I browse anticipating the delight in your promise
 
Your woody scent transcends me
Sharing you with other lovers heightens my satisfaction.
 
You're bound to be replaced, some say,
by something more advanced – more appropriate for our times.
 
But what would become of the balance,
recycling, exchanging, sharing and planting of trees?
​

Here

My protruding backside fits in perfectly here
Where the sunshine guarantees warmth
the people speak the language I was born into and 
remind me of the me I see in the mirror.

Sweet Smelling Man

Muscles look tight under 'im jersey top.
Watch de lickle bounce in 'im walk. 
‘im well know ‘im look sweet.
Mmm... Ah bet him smell good too…  

Me can always mek time fe a sweet smelling man.

He said...

He loved the roundness of my ‘boompsie’
and the way it bounced when I walk.
‘Walk and wine’, is what he said I did, and he loved it.

He said he loved my coarse curly hair and smooth dark skin.
I didn’t need make up. I had nothing to conceal.

So why has he replaced me with the girl in the spiky heels?

Barbie-doll weave cascades past her shoulders;
you wonder what her face really looks like under that scented coloured paste.

A ‘boompsie’ reduction. Would that tackle the ‘walk and wine’?
Should I find a way to straighten my kinks?
Skin lighteners ‒ I hear they’re popular these days.

A few cosmetic changes ‒ is that the road I need to take
​to keep my man?