girl back then.

When I was younger I stood in the mirror and wondered who the girl was staring back at me

I questioned the color of my skin and if it was the reason I didn’t fit in

I told myself that I’d tell those who deemed me undeserving that I hate my skin too

And maybe then I’d be cool enough to be picked first

Or at least getting picked last wouldn’t hurt as much

And maybe if I drew straight lines on my skin I’d appear to be straight too

Because being black and bisexual is a death sentence I can’t complete

Do they make keys strong enough to keep the part of me that wanders locked away

What do I say when they question my silence

What shade of eyeshadow would hide my crying

There isn’t a dictionary big enough to help me find a phrase to accessorize my uncertainties

And quite frankly I’m done trying

If I could talk to that girl back then

I’d tell her to love the color of her skin

To hell with the judgements of those who’ve never stood trial

And never to hide from who she is within

landmark

Seems I am the strongest, when I dress up in all the things that have caused me pain

And the rain falls a little harder on the days I decide to water my own garden

The world seems to think my light shines the brightest on the days I live in the dark

This land has been marked as the place where I can feel pretty

I built this city on top of cuts and bruises

Then rinsed my blood in the river that surrounded me

Picture Of The Day 4.3.21

Photo by Tasha Kamrowski on Pexels.com

i’ve grown tired learning the languages in which you communicate

and still to this day you don’t know why im speechless

it wasn’t until i showed you who you are

that you cared to remember who i am

mimicking the way you moved

brought attention to the reasons i stood still

embodying you left me empty

and it wasn’t until i became your reflection

that you finally noticed me…