Little brown girls are taught safe love,
Which isn’t safe at all.
Love that is easy, love that is accepted.
Love that you don’t have to pick at like a scab,
Love that they see fit. Love that makes sense.
Love with a man and a woman who have tea together in the morning while the birds sing them well wishes for the day.

I have always found myself rebelling against my cocoa soil.
I have dug deeper into the dirt to find mischievous love, which always felt warm to me ; just like tea.
Maybe the warmth came from the rush of blood, the paranoia of being exiled, the heat came from another woman or another man or both a man and a woman simultaneously- quite heated is it not?

Little brown girls are taught safe love, but I am not brown nor little anymore. Watch me emerge from the dirt , budding the most ******* release. A simple rose ( or two ).