***She doesn't know***

She has no clue that I am in love with She.
And the feeling is not even physical, it's purely emotional.
It's not even because she's so sexy, it's because she's so beautiful.
I don't even focus on her sensuality, I dig her spirituality.
I don't even lust over her curves and bumpy terrains, my 3rd eye is hypnotized by her even planes.
I don't even fantasize about feeling her bare skin on mine, I daydream of gazing into her eyes.
When I think of She I don't visualize the thickness of her thighs, I recite lines from her scribes.
I wonder what she thinks when she writes, how much passion her words ignite.
I imagine us sitting through Poetry slams holding hands.
I imagine us sipping on green tea and puffing on Ganja trees.
I imagine us shopping for books and admiring the artistic talents of Dudley Brooks.
I admire her confidence, her versatility, and her consciousness.
I dig her excellence, her positivity, and her pro-blackness.
I concentrate on the way she carries herself, the way she wants more.
I calculate the time I can have her to myself, the way I always want more.
But she doesn't even know how deep this shit is for me.
She is so caught up in being a beautiful black Queen and a true friend to me.
She is so busy being a mentor, a creator, sharing her abilities to teach.
She hasn't recognized me counting every loc of her kinky hair.
She hasn't noticed me studying her, never felt my longing stares.
But I'm determined to wait for however long it takes, at this point I don't care.
One day she'll embrace me, she'll welcome me as more than her sistafriend.
One day we'll collab, we'll start a verse then our harmony will begin.


But today I get comfort in sharing her space.
I am content with knowing that one day she'll know.


nimah