can he see the blood rush to my cheeks despite having skin darker than his?
does he see my skin as a barrier or an invitation?
if he locked his fingers with mine, would he see the contrast between our colors as a masterpiece of beauty or a masterpiece of shame?
if he placed his lips on mine, would he understand my relief that something as natural as melanin (or lack thereof) couldn't restrain love?
i'll never have my answers because i'm afraid of
skin.
so this is actually the first draft of skin (2), which has been posted a bit earlier on my profile. I love both versions so much, which is why both of them still exist. I decided to write a second poem about this issue just because I felt this particular one didn’t emulate the level of fear that I wanted to get across to readers when it comes to interracial attraction.