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He Could be the One

He could be the one; to move the mountains for my satisfaction, to cover the sun so that I may groove with the stars while in his arms. He could be the one to show me the true meaning of wonderful interactions; to teleport us through the streams of every fresh watered fountain, because we both need to be fed in order to grow and produce more and more actions as the time goes by.

He could be the one to wipe my tears when they fall from my optic stems, and then water my brain until it is ripe enough to be picked so that he may know my darkest fears, see what causes my pain, and what alters me to smile brighter than the sun, and laugh when it thunders and rains.

He could be the one, to love and hold me, rather than being “that one” to shove and fold me; well fold my heart like origami art and makes jokes of it, while I lather rinse and repeat in my tub of depression. He could be the one to put the pieces to my soul back together after it shattered, and then cover me with his warmth because he knows I tend to get sad and cold.

He could be the one to love me down, and kiss my neck, while letting me drown in his love, but not letting me die in his love. He could be the one to rub my lower back, grip my entity, remind me that I am his queen that wears the crown, and will remain above.

He could be the one to plant his seed inside of my garden, and stick by my side; as my rib even when I rave and rant, smile, beg and plead, because my mood swings are constantly on this bumpy roller coaster ride; up down, and side to side. He could be the one to feed me knowledge and real food, when I am starving; to sprinkle me with life so that I may continue to spread my wings....

And I.... I could be the one to love him unconditionally, be there for him physically, and of course emotionally and mentally. I could be the one to place no man above him.... Let me put the rhyming to the side just to say that I could be the one to catch him when he falls, answer when he calls, please him when he needs it, relaxes him when he fiends it, touches up his dreads because I know he likes to swing them, and well shit, be his queen one hundred percent because back then when he needed it, those peasants failed to deliver and feed him it....

He could....
I could....
We could...

—Goldie B.

Simply a project explaining how much that King is to her, how he could make, and keep her happy. It explains how the queen can play her role...

Written for - ❤️

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