#darkskin - Hello Poetry

There’s something about the black woman in I. There’s something about the Black woman in I that I can’t figure out. And there was a time where I spent my days basking in this not knowing situation. A time when I blamed the men and women around me— The people who couldn’t see what I wanted them to see but… How would they see what I can’t? I kept crying about how disrespectful ****** were to me, How the women around me didn’t understand the feeling of not feeling enough, How I blamed myself for everything that was happening because of me. And yes, If it was because of me, Then I am at fault And should blame myself for it. But the picture is bigger than that. It’s tougher than that. It’s darker than that. A few years later, There’s still something about the Black woman in I that I can’t figure out. Always complacent. Always trying to be soft after a life of being the hardest rock. Always trying to be mellow jazz when I was the heaviest metal. Always trying to be touched like a piano, But I kept on being the drums. I’m still my own weakness, you know? Now I’m not lying to anyone— I’m just lying to myself. I walk in this made-up power that I’m supposed to have, And I built a whole bridge out of it… but it always trembles. “You’re so beautiful for being a Black woman.” It trembles. “Oh, you’re so well-spoken for coming from the hood!” It trembles. “Are you sure you didn’t have any help making this?” It trembles. “You’ll never be like her.” And it trembles. Still, I keep walking over that bridge because— I need to fake it until I make it, right? I’m so tired of faking it. I’m so tired of feeling this way. I’m tired of being policed over my blackness, Over my hair and my body, Over my womanhood and my mind, Over my sad little soul. Still, I keep going through it, In the hopes that I find what I want to find in the end. “Oh, what do you want to find?” … Oh, dear heart. We were supposed to walk on lilies and green grass. I’m sorry that we can’t. Eight years later, There’s something about the black woman in I that I still can’t figure out. And just like before… I never will.

0

Jun 22, 2025

Jun 22, 2025 at 11:07 AM UTC

lavieonblue

The black woman in I II

There’s something about the black woman in I. There’s something about the Black woman in I that I can’t figure out. And there was a time where I spent my days basking in this not knowing situation. A time when I blamed the men and women around me— The people who couldn’t see what I wanted them to see but… How would they see what I can’t? I kept crying about how disrespectful ****** were to me, How the women around me didn’t understand the feeling of not feeling enough, How I blamed myself for everything that was happening because of me. And yes, If it was because of me, Then I am at fault And should blame myself for it. But the picture is bigger than that. It’s tougher than that. It’s darker than that. A few years later, There’s still something about the Black woman in I that I can’t figure out. Always complacent. Always trying to be soft after a life of being the hardest rock. Always trying to be mellow jazz when I was the heaviest metal. Always trying to be touched like a piano, But I kept on being the drums. I’m still my own weakness, you know? Now I’m not lying to anyone— I’m just lying to myself. I walk in this made-up power that I’m supposed to have, And I built a whole bridge out of it… but it always trembles. “You’re so beautiful for being a Black woman.” It trembles. “Oh, you’re so well-spoken for coming from the hood!” It trembles. “Are you sure you didn’t have any help making this?” It trembles. “You’ll never be like her.” And it trembles. Still, I keep walking over that bridge because— I need to fake it until I make it, right? I’m so tired of faking it. I’m so tired of feeling this way. I’m tired of being policed over my blackness, Over my hair and my body, Over my womanhood and my mind, Over my sad little soul. Still, I keep going through it, In the hopes that I find what I want to find in the end. “Oh, what do you want to find?” … Oh, dear heart. We were supposed to walk on lilies and green grass. I’m sorry that we can’t. Eight years later, There’s something about the black woman in I that I still can’t figure out. And just like before… I never will.

55

Fair and Lovely its says it in the word Fair.. and lovely.... it says it will make me beautiful by erasing the color marrone and caramel to match the color of porcelain white it says that's what makes be beautiful but why do I have to be white to be beautiful? why can"t it be called black opal and loved why do I need to be white to be beautiful when my skin has so much history behind it history should not be forgotten

0

Apr 12, 2020

Apr 12, 2020 at 7:19 PM UTC

Nidhi

Fair and Lovely

Fair and Lovely its says it in the word Fair.. and lovely.... it says it will make me beautiful by erasing the color marrone and caramel to match the color of porcelain white it says that's what makes be beautiful but why do I have to be white to be beautiful? why can"t it be called black opal and loved why do I need to be white to be beautiful when my skin has so much history behind it history should not be forgotten

11

I seek the mystery of the night, I crave the one wearing midnights lace I need to see the depths of her darkness and become lost in her velvet embrace I seek truths unseen by normal men, only ever beheld under a sunless sky To humble myself and plead again and again, her attention a shooting star, still catch it I will try Her skin dark, with a sheen as though stars are lined underneath Her eyes all seeing, the secrets they hold and the truth they know Her lips the lock in which few if any man or woman hold the true key A blasphemous thought to think there is a flaw in her from head to toe I am mesmerized by the dark skin of the lady with a lions name I am trapped by the possibilities of the girl with the gun firing roses The dark woman, a lioness that no sane person will ever try and tame I am enchanted, at great risks I must get to know her dispite the threat she poses

0

May 21, 2019

May 21, 2019 at 2:24 PM UTC

UniversalHugo

She who wears midnight

I seek the mystery of the night, I crave the one wearing midnights lace I need to see the depths of her darkness and become lost in her velvet embrace I seek truths unseen by normal men, only ever beheld under a sunless sky To humble myself and plead again and again, her attention a shooting star, still catch it I will try Her skin dark, with a sheen as though stars are lined underneath Her eyes all seeing, the secrets they hold and the truth they know Her lips the lock in which few if any man or woman hold the true key A blasphemous thought to think there is a flaw in her from head to toe I am mesmerized by the dark skin of the lady with a lions name I am trapped by the possibilities of the girl with the gun firing roses The dark woman, a lioness that no sane person will ever try and tame I am enchanted, at great risks I must get to know her dispite the threat she poses

12

You’re pretty… he says for a dark-skinned girl I usually don’t talk to your kind. am I supposed to feel honor? you hopped of your pedestal, down to mine? I will not curve my lips into the half of the crescent moon that you’re expecting you do not deserve that. exclusion encumbers me and I am small in your eyes. Surely you can see that I am a dark girl, sweet berries ; color of night the same colors that allowed my ancestors to take flight. freeing them from ******* wounds that had them tied, without my hue, we would’ve died. I am a stone immortal, no work of erosion can seep through my cracks. the trials of my ancestors drawn on their backs. so our heads, we never hang down , we are to be found. scars to be hidden it is the gas in a run-away car, that last sip an alcoholic has as their arm and wrist lay dangling at the bar this is the prestige of my hue if I’m just pretty? then what could beauty possibly mean to you. a rare blend of history, struggle and strength. My head will not hang, not once more by noose or in self distress, I am history. No more do I long to sit at a table with you, in the wake of waiting for your admiration I have created my own table, in appreciation of your hesitation. To you my worth will always be in comparison to what’s missing that being pretty for a dark-skin girl, is a blessing. Worth far more than bedazzled insults , convinced I was worth less they could see it in my eyes, the way I dressed. The hue that I am is far greater than they told me accepting back handed accolades, that’s the old me. This house that holds my soul is only almost pretty… they say if I weren’t so dark I might be worth loving, caring wanting or staying. My color, a rustic espresso, no cream. you say I am pretty for a dark- skinned girl … no I’m pretty and that’s it! signed a FED UP dark skinned chick

0

Jul 29, 2018

Jul 29, 2018 at 1:56 AM UTC

littachakilladounoticeapun

dark-skinned chick

You’re pretty… he says for a dark-skinned girl I usually don’t talk to your kind. am I supposed to feel honor? you hopped of your pedestal, down to mine? I will not curve my lips into the half of the crescent moon that you’re expecting you do not deserve that. exclusion encumbers me and I am small in your eyes. Surely you can see that I am a dark girl, sweet berries ; color of night the same colors that allowed my ancestors to take flight. freeing them from ******* wounds that had them tied, without my hue, we would’ve died. I am a stone immortal, no work of erosion can seep through my cracks. the trials of my ancestors drawn on their backs. so our heads, we never hang down , we are to be found. scars to be hidden it is the gas in a run-away car, that last sip an alcoholic has as their arm and wrist lay dangling at the bar this is the prestige of my hue if I’m just pretty? then what could beauty possibly mean to you. a rare blend of history, struggle and strength. My head will not hang, not once more by noose or in self distress, I am history. No more do I long to sit at a table with you, in the wake of waiting for your admiration I have created my own table, in appreciation of your hesitation. To you my worth will always be in comparison to what’s missing that being pretty for a dark-skin girl, is a blessing. Worth far more than bedazzled insults , convinced I was worth less they could see it in my eyes, the way I dressed. The hue that I am is far greater than they told me accepting back handed accolades, that’s the old me. This house that holds my soul is only almost pretty… they say if I weren’t so dark I might be worth loving, caring wanting or staying. My color, a rustic espresso, no cream. you say I am pretty for a dark- skinned girl … no I’m pretty and that’s it! signed a FED UP dark skinned chick

38

I sit disgustingly high on my throne Looking down at those who don't share the same pigment A sliver plate was placed in front of me at birth On it had everything i’d ever need Financial stability, a house, clothes Food, parents, education, safety My heart pumps nothing but racism through my veins An artery of cruelty and death I strongly believe that ‘diversity’ equals white genocide More of them means Less attention on me Confederate flags litter my house My car, my clothes A simple reminder of the good ol’ days Kicking them, Kidnapping them, Killing them My life is now Being waited on hand and foot My every move watched My every need taken care of My husband As rich and powerful as he is Through his fragile and egotistical nature Shows no mercy to me and my kids I will never struggle to provide for my family I started my life on the top of the ladder For my skin is my privilege Someone is lying…. If i showed you a mere glimpse of my life And the world’s nearly unbearable Weight on me Would you believe it? I carry a list of illnesses from A to Z A suicidal uncle who no longer shares the same air as me Colour, race, and religion Hold no limitations to my pain The day in ,the day out Cold, Suffering I will not be constricted to the rules set on whites By whites I am defined by my actions I stand before you as I am I am well read and independant Fiery and calm I walk my path with integrity pulling my head high And shoulders back strong I am made from my experiences I am not constrained to my personal history I was taught this social cancer But surely, this can always be forgotten For my skin is my privilege And my privilege is being me

0

Jan 18, 2018

Jan 18, 2018 at 9:40 PM UTC

saragalluzzo

My Skin is My Privilege

I sit disgustingly high on my throne Looking down at those who don't share the same pigment A sliver plate was placed in front of me at birth On it had everything i’d ever need Financial stability, a house, clothes Food, parents, education, safety My heart pumps nothing but racism through my veins An artery of cruelty and death I strongly believe that ‘diversity’ equals white genocide More of them means Less attention on me Confederate flags litter my house My car, my clothes A simple reminder of the good ol’ days Kicking them, Kidnapping them, Killing them My life is now Being waited on hand and foot My every move watched My every need taken care of My husband As rich and powerful as he is Through his fragile and egotistical nature Shows no mercy to me and my kids I will never struggle to provide for my family I started my life on the top of the ladder For my skin is my privilege Someone is lying…. If i showed you a mere glimpse of my life And the world’s nearly unbearable Weight on me Would you believe it? I carry a list of illnesses from A to Z A suicidal uncle who no longer shares the same air as me Colour, race, and religion Hold no limitations to my pain The day in ,the day out Cold, Suffering I will not be constricted to the rules set on whites By whites I am defined by my actions I stand before you as I am I am well read and independant Fiery and calm I walk my path with integrity pulling my head high And shoulders back strong I am made from my experiences I am not constrained to my personal history I was taught this social cancer But surely, this can always be forgotten For my skin is my privilege And my privilege is being me

53

I choose how I want you tonight, Naked with a full blown appetite, Let me demonstrate how you turn me into a bad gal, Your bad gal made of honey, Sweet rain drops sprinkle the ground, And I let you and my tongue play around, Why do we love as If we need to prove a point, When I'm taking every bit of you that I barely can handle, Please never stop even when I beg, Your body is the only thing I want to taste forever, Incredibly weak when your lips pressures' my prize, You can take me anyway you fantasize, But there's no cushion for your pushin, I'm trouble bustin your pelvic bubble, Daddy please give me all of you I beg, You dive deeper than we could swim, Chocolate melting under chocolate, You make me quiver with like a prey eyed to be eaten, My body struck paralyzed to move, I watch you with tears developing, It's too heavy to bare, I can't take this anymore, But I'm still urging for more you forcefully give, All night I die over and over, Taking multiple trips to heaven, Hawt kisses with long persuasion of endless love stayed content, We finally take a break catching the sunrise delight us, It's too hot for us to be cuddling, But your burning love is worth the sizzle for me.

0

Jul 20, 2015

Jul 20, 2015 at 10:20 PM UTC

neptunexiii

Crave

I choose how I want you tonight, Naked with a full blown appetite, Let me demonstrate how you turn me into a bad gal, Your bad gal made of honey, Sweet rain drops sprinkle the ground, And I let you and my tongue play around, Why do we love as If we need to prove a point, When I'm taking every bit of you that I barely can handle, Please never stop even when I beg, Your body is the only thing I want to taste forever, Incredibly weak when your lips pressures' my prize, You can take me anyway you fantasize, But there's no cushion for your pushin, I'm trouble bustin your pelvic bubble, Daddy please give me all of you I beg, You dive deeper than we could swim, Chocolate melting under chocolate, You make me quiver with like a prey eyed to be eaten, My body struck paralyzed to move, I watch you with tears developing, It's too heavy to bare, I can't take this anymore, But I'm still urging for more you forcefully give, All night I die over and over, Taking multiple trips to heaven, Hawt kisses with long persuasion of endless love stayed content, We finally take a break catching the sunrise delight us, It's too hot for us to be cuddling, But your burning love is worth the sizzle for me.

28