If we were blind

would you still put me in chains?

Would you tie my hands

like my mother did my braids?

If we were blind

night would be our day.

Colored

would never be my name.

Freedom would’ve never been a right.

A mockingbird would’ve never had to die.

Everything is beautiful.

To touch

my curls swirling up.

To feel

Grandma’s sweet potatoes

melt into blood.

A textured love.

Yet, here I step in your grainy hate.

From my toes to my hair

washed up from thousands of years.

Scrapping away what our mother bestowed upon me.

Wishing this water was not my ancestors’ sea.

Here, I’m a slave to those who save the day.

Those who still wait

to throw me away.

Here, we claim colorblind, but never blind.

Chained to cursed sight.

Concealing the brownest eye.

#racism #freedom #colorism #prejudice #poetry

I was young, a young idiot.

Youth wasn’t wasted on everyone, but it was wasted on me.

But no matter how many days I wake up and wish I could take back the things I said, the things I did, and the things I could’ve but didn’t say and do. There’s nothing I can do.

Because I’m pretty sure I’ll be dead before a dust bunny time travels.

So here’s my advice to you.

You can’t predict the future until you’ve lived it.

You never know what you should do until you’ve done it.

And even then you never know what would’ve happened if you chose the other path.

I was young, a young idiot.

You probably are too, and so is she, and so is he, and so is I prefer not to answer.

Youth isn’t wasted on everyone, but it might be wasted on you.

So you can only hope for that moment you realize it’s time to get smarter.

And by then you probably won’t be young anymore, and you’ll have no youth to waste.

I'm tired.

Tired of this suffering.

So tired.

Tired of hating you.

Tired.

Tired of missing you.

Tired of these tears,

won't you come here my dear?

Why don't we watch,

watch the butterflies fly?

Wings shine like diamonds.

Shine in the sky blue.

Why was I even mad?

Mad at you.

How can I be mad?

When there's only you.

Only you and me.

You and me in the sky blue.

I love

these rainy nights.

I love

these spring kites.

Can we take a deep breath?

Just float.

I love 

being alone.

I love being alone

with you.

Can we buy a cake?

Just for two.

I love 

watching the sunrise.

I love 

watching the sunset.

Can we waste away our day?

Just for today.

I love

anything.

I love anything

as long as I'm with you.

So, can I stay loving you?

Just you.

I love 

this high.

I love

this Cloud 9.

The rain falls on where you used to sit.

Your filled cup, now empty.

My hand, wrinkled,

one for every memory,

holds a love note.

30 years old.

At sunlight,

sit pretty like a doll.

At night,

blur the lines.

Release the kraken.

Let it eat you alive.

At sunlight,

sit pretty like a doll.

I used to play pretend.

I still play pretend.

On this day, I'm the blooming flowers of spring.

The next day, I'll act out the fall breeze.

All while I'm a summer drought, a winter drink.

I need a reminder,

please tell me it's not my color.

The slipper won't fit.

Pretend is not reality.

Help me find me,

but who is me?

What do I look like?

Where am I?

I'm sick of being fiction.

These lines surged up from the dark abyss.

Colored in a deep red.

Filled with Confusion and Self-doubt.

Yearning for the need to accept

Each line coming one by one.

Bled out in the darkest of nights.

The most vulnerable of times.

Through the midnight cries

Only heard by paper ears.

Let out is the fear.

Let out

is the blackest trenches of myself.