12:58-1:10pm on Monday June 29, 2020; off the dome.
My skin is brown,
it is not just like chocolate,
for it can resemble the color of an almond, chestnut, or peanut,
the dazzling color of cacao, or cocoa,
the wood finish of a boat, or a stunning, mahogany finished handmade bookshelf,
the color of a paper bag but the texture of a freshly-shed snake,
the vibrance of a delightfully drawn star but the texture of a baby's cheek,
the color of a weeping willow tree's bark, or a protective and strong mother bear,
skin rich with melanin, an espresso that could never be matched,
a queen-like ebony, a caramel brown, hazel like the flecks of some of our eyes,
a rich, permanent tan, dark like the closing of one's eyes,
dark like the black void you disappear into when looking at the one you love's eyes,
dark like the freshly painted Cadillac, dark like your favorite team shirt,
dark like the night skies our ancestors ran under, reflecting our faith back unto us,
brown sugar, but that's so overplayed,
a true shea butter baby, laced with cocoa butter,
yet dark, the darkness of a million souls adorned in the beauty of their arts and traditions,
a glowing complexion that the sun kisses and hugs with all its might-
my skin.
YOU ARE READING
Mind {Prose Vol. 2}✔
Poetry❝In my mind, there is pain. I am exhausted. I feel defeat from my hair tips to my feet- my body feels the stress weighing down on my shoulders. I try and try every day, but nothing seems to go my way. In my mind, there is pain, yet I try because one...
