Letter To My Wife

I am not your master, indeed you are Brown;
You are my lover, friend, wife, what am I missing?
What am I forgetting?

Your hands, I wish to wake,
I am weak, I wish to excavate construction,
I am not your master, indeed I am your Slave,

Each noose used; carved rings into my foundation,
You asked after witnessing bags under my eyes,
How was your sleep?

I am not your master, indeed you are Brown;
You are my lover, friend, wife, what am I missing?
Why am I reminiscing?

Your hands, figments of elastic tapestry protect my body,
Your warmth, blankets acting as calligraphy,

I am not your master, indeed you are Brown;
You are my lover, friend, wife, what am I missing?
What is transpiring?

I am your slave, you are my jugular vein,
You were crafted by a sensual wood-carver,
Erotic sapphires flow through your blood,

I am not your master, indeed you are Brown;
You are my lover, friend, wife, what am I missing?
What am I expressing?

You are the architecture of my mind,
Your eye-lashes tickle and I sneeze as we kiss,
Your tongue releases shivers down my spine,

I am not your master, indeed you are Brown;
You are my lover, friend, wife, what am I missing?
What am I creating?

Between chest-plates, opening treasure chests,
Your breast-plates, contemplating pleasant dreams,
Never suicide, your hair extends thanks caressing my neck-line,

Your cheeks perplex rose bushes contemplating ecstasy,
Diamonds solved crimes, your skin shined chivalry,
I am not your master, indeed you are Brown;

You are my lover, friend, wife, what am I missing?
What am I resurrecting?
You are causing surround sound without physical proximity,

Your hips sway sweetness,
Your stomach curvatures correlate fragile star alignment,
Your freckles and goosebumps glide across my chest as erotic kisses leave memories,

I am not your master, indeed you are Brown;
You are my lover, friend, wife, what am I missing?
What is my condition?

Your palms burrow seeds under tears,
Your wrists collide casually, arresting senses fashionably,
In case you are hoping, running, dreaming, praying, or crying,

I am your slave, you are my lover, friend, wife,
What am I missing?
Who deserves recognition?

You are not thuggish, hood-like,
Grinding without pleasure from above,
Your eyes call collect, your feet lift sadness,

Your rib-cage breaks hate,
You are not a statistic, you are my lover,
How do you lay peacefully?

Your lips curl, right foot in the air, we kiss tenderly,
Your nose twitches when we fathom success,
You are a professional, you are not a side-chick,

You are my lover,
I am not your master, indeed you are Brown;
What am I missing? What am I recalling?

You are not in bondage, your hair covers my peripheral,
Your eye color emasculated sensory details from my veins,
When you lay your hands upon my skin, my heart races,

You are fragile,
Your top lip speaks softly,
Your bottom trusts deeply,

I am not your master, indeed you are Brown;
You are my lover, friend, wife, what am I missing?
Am I imagining?

You are Brown, you are Black, you are African,
You are Southeast Asian,
You are my Queen without the need of a Crown,

You are not a slave,
You are not in bondage,
You are my lover, friend, wife,

I am not your master, indeed you are Brown;
You are roots, you are my friend, lover, wife,
What am I missing? What am I forgetting?

Your thighs constrict my waist, depleting evil,
Your freckles smooth over cracks and roughness,
I am not your master,

Indeed you are Brown;
You are my lover, friend, wife,
What am I missing? What am I forgetting?

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