Don't cut your dreads

I like how they feel on my fingers when I grab them, pull them, caress them as if they were human
I like how they feel on my chest when you lay on me, feed on me like some frenzied cunt

I like    ...that rough soft texture, almost dry yet no breakage ever occurs kinda feel

           ...that I am a proud African vibe they have going on

I feel some kind of connection, emotional jellying, when I feel them against my skin, pushing them against me like they can open the locks of my soul to have conversations with the possessor of my soul

Like they are a part of us, a third element to our union, like some mistress that knows her place

I like how they make you look like some innocent untouched soul when they hang loose

Hanging down your ears like they hear on your behalf

I like how I look at you; then gaze up to the crown of your head and they are there as if they add meaning to your being, as if they are the definition of your being or together you are defined

I like how I have spoken of them without speaking of you

Call me shallow but I doubt I would have gone for you if you had that lil'Afro swag on