My African Queen...

She’s gorgeous

But she’s not real

Her breasts are inflated

Her hips and thighs are manipulated

Her face chiseled

She’s sexy

But She’s not real

She’s constructed externally

Altered internally

Mentally she’s longing

The world has convinced and construed

Her complexion as a fault

Her strength as a flaw

When she was her

I loved her

I knew when she cared

It was seen in her passion

She was once my strength

Now she craves names

Sees me daily but doesn’t know I exist

She has compacted her face

As to hide her individuality

She speaks of authority

But she’s held prisoner to her own vanity

To these eyes I too am captured

Something about…

Her beautiful skin

Her curves, the desires of the flesh

Makes composing sonnets of her extraordinaire spectacular

And yet and still

It’s only temporary

If only in memory, or some folk-lore

She would be my Coretta

Set my soul free like Harriet

Help me build like Mary

Fight with me like Winnie

Stand by my side like Michelle 

If for only for a few ticks

Praise her for natural elegance

Inspire her for natural form

Reaffirm to her that she is…

So captivating, and intriguingly awesome

Dark Skinned,

Brown Skinned

The preserver of the more delightful glow

Conquerour of hearts

The inspiration behind some of the greatest minds 

The only quotation needing to be known

Is that…

I loved her!

My beautiful African Queen

Always will…