I hope you don't see it.
I pray you don't notice it.
I pray you don't hear my soul calling out for yours, like a baby crying in the room next door.
I hope you don't understand it.
I hope you don't see it.
YOU ARE READING
Purple blush
Poetry''Everything you did to me, I remember. Mama, I made it out of your home alive, raised by the voices in my head. '' -Warsan Shire, Extreme girlhood
