Black Poetry - Baasch

I move my hips to your sudden drifts

Naked skin became leather

In the name of poetry

I have made us happen

What have I done to you?

What have I done?

I made you the substitute of what I used to have

What have I done to you?

What have I done?

I made you the substitute

Enough of yesterday for tonight

Judge me all about you

Now it’s indecently sensual

Relocated and captured

What have I done to you?

What have I done?

I made you the substitute of what I used to have

What have I done to you?

What have I done?

I made you the substitute

I couldn’t see what I’ve had