I N D I G O L D / I N D I G O D

Ambiance of a king/
Aura of a God/
Mind of a hustler/
Thoughts of a poet/
When you're in the eyes of a writer, you're unsafe/
The stars in the sky guide me when the moon is non existing/
It left me some hope, realizing it's the little things that count/
The smell of your skin reminds me of lost wishes/
I had faith it will be granted/
Eclipse moments when you least expect it/
As intimate as the ring around saturn, your hands are conjoined/
Non-stagnant, to good to be true, to good to not be true/
We are liberation, our minds are freer than a revolutionary confined to 4 walls/
Were as harmless to another as sun rays to melanin/
Were truthful than the pastors lingo left on the altar for a church goer to thirst from/
I'm no hypocrite to emacluating feeling and the mystic hunger of a king/
My lips and heart was wasting sweetness until your soul entered mine and our energy/
Were sweeter than flapjacks on a Sunday morning doused in aunt jemima
While she's schooling you on the steps to realizing the taste of a real man/
Ain't no need for a stirring, or mixing up a Concoction/
Taste buds please don't cock blocks with what my mouth and my heart says

This poem is about: 
My family
My community
My country
Our world


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