talk about swagga. hers is off the meter. bad chick breed. my little secret, cus I'm her admirer she doesn't need the biggest ass, or the biggest breast. no make-up. no fancy threads. jus the skin she's in. no jewelry, she's a gem all her own. a real diamond. no rhinestones this way. smile made of pearls. beautiful brown skin. smooth like butter. personality sweeter than sugar. the sound of her words touching her lips, jus as sweet. no acoustic soul, or miseducation, jus the pressence of infatuation. no guitar or heavenly singin voice (that i know of) but the features of a goddess. even tho i could always picture myself lying next to a indie arie or a lauryn hill, as they sing to me i'd rather be lying next to her as she recites my poems. far fetched? maybe but that wont stop the many thoughts i have of her. will she be mine. for one day, for one night, this night. if given the chance never will i pass it up. to lay next to her, as i share wit her my thoughts. her head on my chest as i run my hands through her hair. I wanna be beside her while she sleeps and she lay or we can stay awake and watch the next day. but no wayne. jus the sound of our hearts racing in sync. never will there be another like her. no others can compare. the aura she gives off. for that, forever will my mind rest on the young girl with the dreadlocks.

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