There, their, they're...

Its a beautiful thing,
black love
Because they're love
They connected their souls
The god body within,
created perfection
in the image of their love.
Yet in the eyes of their love
there was/is pain,
there are/were regrets,
there were/are obstacles,
and theirs is full of trials,
to their triumphs,
there were times of joys,
Days where their elaborate patterns of speech and dance,
Had them lost in the turns, tricks & dips
of their loves dance
there was a seduction,
in their love
there was/is a solace,
a peace
an at home feeling in their love cause
there love is home
even in their divided homes,
there is celebration,
there is gratitude,
there is a shoulder to lean on,
until there isn't a leg to stand on and
All that comes out is the anger
in their words ,
there is fury.
And sometimes there are blows,
to pride,
to hearts,
to egos
To mines
and to faces
from hands that once held that face to their face and softly whispered "I love you"
and they did,
even when they loved rough,
Their love was intense
cause their love is/was/is tough,
to be in
When there comes a point
where their love is not enough
or
their love becomes just too much
for their love to handle.
-j sans chez
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Caught Up in Love's Game

She speaks of love as if it is a game,
something to be played
kept boxed up on a shelf,
after the players have gone away
far away from wanting hearts and wavering minds
like closeness is irrelevent in the development of
something more than physical
i hate her
hate her eyes
the way they stare like lasers burning holes into me
hate that when i look into them,
i let her soul lock onto mine
and carry me away like leave in the fall breeze
My mind becomes a porch
swept clean of previous clutter, empty like her heart
just peace and tranquility fills the space just previously occupied by my love
i hate that when her fragile arms cluch me in their embrace i feel secure in this crazy world
suddenly assured that the woman i am today
is the woman she'll love forever
i hate her smooth melodic voice bringing
deliciously harsh kicks to my pride.
knocking my ego down to just the right size
the nook right below her head
leaving me tall enough to be her stoic empress
yet short enough to snuggle the nape of her neck
where i can inhale her sweet essence
i hate that smell
the one that emenates from her
resonates in me like pine trees on christmas
this scent intoxicates my being and i am filled with love
losing all reason
forgetting that i hate her mind
and her super powers
like her ability to convince me to be my better self with her & for her
and how she pushes me foreward
by keeping me from looking back
I hate the caress of her chocolate skin and full juicy lips
quenching the thirst of which i was unaware i even had.