Boy crazy and Beauty

Boy crazy

always wanting a hug

wanting to be felt

wanting sweet kisses and holding of hands

Fantasizing about being someone’s lady

To be so good and told over and over again

you not good enough

And she hears it so much

it stampeded on her head with a weight that wakes one up

that it’ll never be

I’m a pretty lady. Some days I look in the mirror and feel beautiful. I adore staring at myself intently riding a morning rush hour train. Such places and people beheld by these eyes. This broad African nose, my centerpiece, my lips that I didn’t know were nice till that one guy told me so. The ears always adorned with large earrings. This beautiful, luscious ,chocolate complexion, proud. My stature, the butt that pokes out stretching panties, the thighs that keep it all together creating fire, that warmth, the reason I need to buy pants more often. The nibble size tits that men suck on like babies being fed by mama. The belly full of food. That candy from my male heritage, i’m unashamed nor boastful.

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