freckle lined and hued with pink
angled gently in a curved facade
red, curled and pillowed
over her face and around
her ear.
coppered brown flick her
eye and eye and eye
trickle down, find
the bridge and there
***** of inhalation.
the arch of hair
lead over her forehead
blank in between
pointing downward to end
at the tip of her lip.
a lip turned coral
by the line of blood
traveled continually
hill to hill to hill.
her ear linked to the
gentle flaked cover
of her body.
word after word
floating from her throat
murmured into heartache
of an adrift lover.
marking her cheek up
and down
placed darkly
and with magic.

green eyes, soft curls and pouty lips,
a laugh that sets my heart afire,
with hand on my hips
and near touching lips,
i know that in my life,
i will never find a love the same
but to hold another to his standard
i know i am to blame

Kings. Queens.
Consummation. Kids.
Chiefs of clans.
Children of chiefs.
Close knit communities.
Continued cycles.

Change.
Colorless crews.
Coins. Captures. Chains.
Chained to you.
Chained to the cruise.
**** me. **** he. **** she.

Check teeth,
Choose wisely.
Chastise. Cracked whips.
Change name:
Kunta, no Toby.

Change, charge.
Christ of captives,
“**** them!”
No, **** him.
Continue evil.

Change.
Break chains.
Knots, no more.
No, change chains.
Lose claims.
Coax comfort.

Contradict. Corrupt.
Cascaded crucifixions.
Charred chandeliers.
Coerce without cognition of
Coming chaos
Of civic correction.
Civilians conform society.
Combatants conquer and confer.

Continue.
Cultural contributions.
Cultural appropriation.
Cultural controversy.
No complications.
No conversations.
Did not conceive,
Cannot convey.
Concede. Not Conceit.

Continue.
Kings cower before
Crowns clarify.
Kings killed.
Queens cope. Queens cry.
Queens say,
“**** compliance!
**** cordial!”
Queens coordinate, combat,
Condemn, don’t compromise,
And command cessation
To corrupt civilization.
Queens continue
Coils, kinks, curls.

Tell me that you still look for me in a crowd out in public. Tell me I live in your mind, that I don't just cross it.
I wrote down the times that you were eating me alive. The times I couldn't breath the times I did more than cry. I wrote about the passion, the love, the hate. I wrote about sidewalks, the movies and cake. I miss the moments we would meet eyes, I miss the moments we went on nighttime drives. I think about details like the curls in your hair, the way you stared. Your eyes lit a fire I have yet to put out. A fire that's destroyed me So just tell me you understand, this way that I feel. I need the closure so maybe I can heal.

Her skin is a creamy vanilla
She lies beneath a tree, it's a willa
Her eyes like two deep pools of chocolate that you could get lost in.
She looks different from others, but she's just like us within.

She unravels her beautiful bantu knots
She let her natural, *****, thick curls go
Just like the wind, she goes with the flow
But something that's more beautiful than her, ....are her beautiful thoughts

I'm a puzzle with no corner pieces-
complicated and frustrating
but breathtaking when finally put
together.
Faded blue jeans, bare feet, and
a mass of wild curls.
Southern accented blunt truths
and sharp accessing eyes
that have forgotten their true color.
Messy scribbled words on heaps
of discarded paper
and gorgeous journals with empty
pages.
I am a piano player in private
and a singer in the shower.
Paint splattered hands
and a girl finding beauty
behind a lens.
A quiet thinker
with a head full of screaming
thoughts.
I am a lovely mess of
contradictions.