Shea Butter Baby

The power of melanin is dangerous. The way my skin glows like gold with just a layer of momma's famous shea butter and coconut oil mix. The way my skin and hair attracts the sun and curls stand at attention but yet falls like a weeping willow tree. The way my hips and ass struggle to fit in this size 12 but stomach is as flat as the salar de uyuni. The way my face is as hard as stone but full lips quickly forms into a soft smile with any encounter. My words as sharp as a blade that speak nothing but truth. My eyes turn into pools of honey whenever light finds itself attracted to them. When I walk in a room, all eyes are on me, as i swing my hips and poke my chest out in confidence. I am not always this way though. My honey eyes shed nectar every once in a while watching the news. Another one of our men shot down in cold blood. Rather it's by the men flashing the red, white and blue lights or if it's by one of our own. The mother crying and screaming to the press in anger and grief is labeled as bitter because "she shouldn't act that way in public" When really the viewers are too cowardice to admit that her words sting with veracity. Another little chocolate girl gone missing, two days of recognition, three years of nothing besides her face on the gas stations, corner stores, and any other local store window. Life isn't all golden for a shea butter baby.