you hold up your hands
          and shout
woah I'm not racist
        as you point
and discriminate against
          black faces
open your blinds eyes
                and  
open your deaf ears
             then
maybe you can taste
the discriminated tears

I miss your hands the most
the way your golden skin stretched over each Phalange
I still remember each scar
the way they would hold me
the way they would engulf my own  
the warmth they emitted
your hands were summer
your hands were beautiful
your hands were not mine to hold
they were not mine to embrace
to cherish
to love

I let you place the stars in my sky
                             and now
       you place them in some other girls
                                  eyes

Telling you how I feel would be like asking a blind man to describe the colors he dreams of