Do you see my long good hair
My golden skin
My slanted eyes
Yes, I'm Mixed
I'm totally the prettiest girl here
I mean come on,
I'm mixed

You ******* wish you were me
Your man wants me
I'll ****** him up quick,
Yes, I'm Mixed
Call me a ***** you're just jealous

I'm mixed
This is how you portray me
I'm only pretty because I'm mixed
I'm only loved because I'm mixed

you say I don't understand being a black woman
My mommas black, my grandmother black and the mother before her was black too
Am I not black and a woman?
that's how she raised me
I understand that black women are treated the worst
I know black women aren't protected
I know black women are under valued
Unappreciated, Abused, used  
I know that black women are strong as ****
I know they're beautiful
I know that they're the blueprint for every Kardashian and Jenner

You say I don't understand the real struggle of being black
I'm not black enough to understand
I don't know how to be black

You say I'm white washed because the way I talk
You say I'm not black because
I don't equate ghetto with being black
I know what my ancestors went through
They fought for our freedom
They fought for equality
They fought for our education
They fought for every opportunity that we have today
I Know our ancestors didn't fight for us to just be equated with ghetto

Yes, I'm mixed
This doesn't excuse the other race of me
They say I'm not Asian enough too
I fight with them too

I'm tired of not fitting in
I'm tired of people nitpicking my percentage
I'm tired of fighting my own identity
I'm tired of being told I'm only special because I'm mixed

I'm Mixed
That doesn't make me special
So, go on tell me what I am
See me how you want to see me
What you say won't change who I am
It doesn't make me any less of what I am
A black and Asian woman or
An Asian and black woman

Yes, I am mixed

It’s green for you and black for me
Each color plays its part
It’s green for you and black for me
The icon of each heart

Then I met you and you met me
There at the waterfall
How I touched you and you touched me
We never touched at all

Green for you has always been true
But black for me’s too cold
Your green awoke my dreaming soul
Exposing color bold

It’s green for you, now red for me
A tender rose unfurled
The green of you with the red of me
Blossoming in the world

Coffee drips blue to the touch
Dark on its own brewed as such
I take one sip it’s over by the next
I take one cup,
And the three follow to keep me vexed.

I don’t understand what is happening
Why my dependence on caffeine is rising
Why I need that cold brew
Oh! But my coffee
That sweet drip of toffee!

A poem about gravity
I know he’s going to break my heart
I tell everybody that I know that it’ll come
I tell them, to tell myself
Maybe I’ll remember
Maybe he’ll run
Maybe I’ll run
Maybe just maybe, there’s a future but I’m afraid to feel that way.
Because
maybe I feel too hard,
maybe I feel too much, maybe I haven’t felt this way in a long time,
maybe that’s why I’m terrified.
I know it’s going to hurt, he’s already hurt me.

My walls are down, I know his are not.
I wish I could keep mine up,
but oh boy, it’s too late.
No relationship is ever certain
No love is ever promised
No life isn’t confusing as hell.
Always “love on me”
Never “I love you”
Hail, rain, warm nights, street lights, sunrise bedroom kisses, warmth, cold
- sometimes so cold, and Pleasure, and so vague,
social, no PDA, but then he grabs my hand and we walk together.

W T F is this, why do I want it so badly when I know it’s only gonna hurt me.
Why did I allow my heart to be open enough to be broken?
I’m still trying to put my own pieces back together, I didn’t and don’t need this.
But it’s truly everything I want.

Him, his black hole of a bed, those windows, those eyes that are **** galaxies.
They show so much, I can read them but not all of them,
sometimes they shift to a far off world that I have not been invited to.
But I want to know what’s going on behind those gorgeous galactic windows to a planet and soul that I will probably never get to visit.

Why, when I know, this is going to crush me.
Tear me apart in ways I know are coming,
Why do I come back and leave my heart on the floor, begging for more.
Why can’t I stop falling in love with a dark matter in the Universe?
Why does it already hurt but hasn’t even happened yet?
I am the light, orbiting the black hole,
Knowing full well I’m being ****** in,
And to my own detriment,

I circle it and am bracing for the inevitable-
But I’m also already ****** into his gravity.

Material lips; sewing on a seamless smile;
A shrouded piece of wool- for one wearing
The jersey of youth, as time slowly pulls at the thread
While I lock away my shadow of the writhing darkness,
Trailing behind me in the day; as I once tried speaking
To my void, but the emptiness obeyed not a single word

A tap tap at my window- the eyes to a soul, painted wholly
In the colours of divorce; as the separation of dreams
From one’s imagination. All, all was so dark; slandered
By such a terrorizing world- until I opened to let him in;
As a child with a curious thought, soon questioning, and
To study- for my lips to utter:

I cannot live out this life,
Without letting You, O Lord in.

I stalk through the dark hallways
Drifting through remnants of a sun.
Spirals into vortexes, cascading shafts of light on
Brief transits inward, where time falters.
Forces push & pull and all around
The tide of the cosmos envelopes me,
Wading through the static sea
Waves come in crashing-
Laughter, screams
And yet, no sound escapes the vacuum

I am a poem in motion, in itself-
I strike an empty canvas; drawing out inspiration from
the library of experiences sitting on a majestic shelf,
“what picture shall I craft,” to showcase an unheard story,
an unsung song- “and what lines shall I once again cross”

Poetry has no bounds;- its never short of words,
its expression is wild; tamed by the artist’s pen- my sword
to fight against the marching violence in my mind.
My words- are all a part of me; they separate me from the
entire world, as I watch everything unfold into the paper
where I write down my thoughts.

[the poet-
is an outsider; a broken writer, who gets his fix from
his literature art. It’s an addiction, and a cure to my everything-
yet it’s still nothing. It is here, it is there, it is everywhere; still
it comes from nowhere.

[a poem-
are her words tender, but also so raw. They are the length of her
elegant body, they are short of breath- she is my answer, she is
my many questions, she’s a truth made out of my lies. She is
everything to my nothing

No poem is a mistake; every poem is perfect-
written by imperfect people.

Your kiss feels like a petal in a violent wind;
an edible desire on my florid cheeks- blushing in my
memory of you, incessantly playing out love and seduction;-
you threaten my eyes with longing.

Swimming in an ocean of your dreams;
her waters are so clear -every tear in her eyes reflects a
better version of me; as I see my love for you is so frail
-destined to fail from every touch of our running lips;-
chasing after love, its sweet venom killed me from the start.

Darling, our love was a short poem; written in black
-for we couldn’t see its predictable conclusion;
our love was a short poem;- short, brief and obscured.

I don’t miss her, being my girl- I just miss
the feeling of not being so in love with someone,
who doesn’t love you anymore.

                          Today I wrote her a black poem.