AshiharaLover

I fell in love with black America The ways his back curved like big mountains and stood tall and strong, protecting me, His arms furm, hips with rythm and a voice like an aesthetic bass No guns in his hands, only pens writing me love poems His curly hair and long eyelashes always captured me, and I'd laugh inside, because how can some people not see the beauty I see? I guess I'll just keep it for myself then Oh, but his lips, rich and soft, made for love, his chest built strong and marked from decades of hard work down the family line Legs like an athlete, and no, they are not made like this to outrun the police, but instead for