Rosa King

I wanna know if our 2 plus 2 = foreplay
Or if finger licking will produce enough sauce to have me your way
If I squeeze s cream will it be raw gain
Get me loaded, locked for my pure aim
Will we strike chromo semantics spores, leave our flaw stained
How many time will I score in your lane
Will it change what you shout from my name to Your Dame
Knees bent like you’re praying, knowing I am Lord of the manner
Can I
Let our 2 plus 2 turn into 3 plus one
See 2 plus 1 = the words you plus gone
So I wanna know before I wear Trojan John
If we can see if 3 into one goes across your divide
I wanna start back at 4 if that’s alright
You choose the figure, when to multiply
When to linger
Your hands turn me into a singer
Where mine are tinged with lavender and hot lemon cinders
Creeping up your spine like a running vine without resistance
You call this a draft,
I call it listless the way I slowly strum your plum strings
The pick up is an early warning sign that rings and ring and rings
I am wedded too your chime
Doing calculus to the sounds of algebra for moment I play in your drumline
You are my snare
Your Berlin is the space for our fan fare
I could spit poetry and go where snakes dare,
I could sing floetry and roll tongues where fakes care
Instead I listen and know an end to the wait is near
I wanna quit playing and see if our instruments will take us there
Yet I’m the one delaying to know your worth it

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Relationships

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s