Black and Proud aren’t we?


My Black is as beautiful
as the midnight sky
on a summer evening.
Subtle clouds overhead,
slowly admiring the way my
chocolate skin layers my bones.
Counting the constellations
shifting on my forehead,
shooting down to the craters
under my feet.
And I am floating.

My Black is as mysterious
as the dark moon
on a winter eclipse.
Whispering stars adjacent,
patiently investigating the way my
voluptuous lips compliment my smile.
Mixing the memories
living in the shadows of my membrane,
throwing away the gravitational pull on my spirit.
And I am leaping.

My Black is as emotional
as the deep sea
on earth’s surface.
Quiet waves in front,
cautiously watching the way my
immortal brown eyes talk to their soul.
Fixating the feelings
dripping from the my heart, entering my lower intestine
oozing out of my fingertips.
And I am jumping.

My Black is as black
as society allows

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