Mostly depressed
Slightly undressed
Pink lingerie
Egg white souffle

She stares, unaware
Of herself
But does not spare
Myself

From that agonizing beauty
Awe-striking allure
Of something so utterly
p u r e .

I have grown up more in the last few months than I have in the last few years.
I used to think that real love meant kisses on the lips and making excuses.
Sometimes I find myself making wishes on eyelashes, hoping to find your hand in mine.
But I learned that cake is still cake, no matter the shape it's baked in.
You don't have to kiss me on the mouth or stick a label on me to know what love is.
I don't have to make wishes because I've grown up more in the last few months
Than I have in the last few years.
I have learned that real love is loving every bit of that cake, no matter its shape.
Sometimes, real love is holding your hand with no real expectations
Other than knowing you're going to keep it there.

I want to sink my hands into your chest,
Pull all the splinters from your heart,
And plant my lips down on it.
I want to stitch up all the rips and tears,
Mend all that has been broken,
And lose my fingers  in your veins so you always know I'm there.
But I'll have to settle for the surface.
I cannot sit inside you with a needle and thread,
but I can hold your hand and kiss you when it hurts
And help to heal you from the outside in.

Tall people
short people
black people
white

strange people
funny people
loose people
tight

noisy people
crazy people
do it all alone people

up people
down people
throw it all around people

here people
there people
I don't really care people

Happy people
sad people
creating a new fad people

people in America
people in Japan
People in Mexico
there's people all around

Hey people
stay people
listen to me now

hold onto your heart people
and maybe you can fly

you are the forty-fourth
president
of the united states
of america.

you are black.
you are history.

you rolled in on the
waves of the storm.

you want to save us.

you are the forty-fourth
president.

even in the shower.

even when you sleep.

and when you get angry
and scream and flail your arms.

you are the president
of the united states
of america.

even when you cry so hard
it cracks your face.

you are the president.
you are america's new mask.
you are you.

barack hussein obama.
forty-fourth president.
USA.

How black is too black?
Should I tan
To make up for the pigment I lack?

How white is too white?
Should I flatten my curls,
Then will I be alright?

Why must I cope with this balancing act?
Careful, not too many big words
Tip the stereotypical scale back to black.

Not enough for some, too much for others
Whose side do I choose this time,
The father or mother's?

It matters too much which race people see
Why can't I just be black or white enough
To make myself me?

Got an idea for a pretty poem?
Hold that thought
while Yung Joc finishes plz.

In the barnyard
in the suburbs
Blacktop recess was the best recess
cos we were kettled together

90s nostalgia is limited to lame t.v shows

why don't no one talk about the wet overcast no more?

Black girl
with eyes
like coals in snow.

Black girl with super-dark skin,
that just  
makes
me
cry.

Black girl
with long
curly hair
littered with light.

Black girl
with lips like slices
of wet wings,
lips thin
as
happiness.

Black girl
with hazelnut eyes
with a grey
bent.

Black girl that knows how to make
me so happy in the cold,
with her closet-full of words
that can make a ******
think of warm weather.

Together we meet
in the woods,
at the cabin front-steps
taking turns
twirling
each other's cheeks,
touching each other's
lips
and I just want you to know
that there are no dreary
days
ahead,
even when it is cold
and we have to hold
each other
to hold
everything
inside.

Because we might just burst;
explode
in a thousand limbs climbing like spiders.