Every time I saw that afro it was my soul elevator... every time. Our love was as tight as those dreamy curls.
It was the kind of hair you could sculpt, hair with a natural God-given bounce, born to be worn loud and proud.
She walked in there with that afro and fucking owned the place. I don't care what you call beauty, but that's my beauty right there.
Keep track of your favorite writers on Descriptionari
We won't spam your account. Set your permissions during sign up or at any time afterward.