Skimming the surface

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I feel seen by your eyes; this frightens me

A bead of sweat drips down your face. I stare, enthralled. I find myself contemplating its flavor.

Your mouth has got me shook. I cant. Stop. Staring.

I peek inside your mind and find it lined with shelves, littered with papers and books, some left open and forgotten. I imagine you skim through them from time to time. But only when necessary

I want to be there when you get out of the shower to smooth your skin with shea butter while your body is still steaming, and hot, and wet

Sometimes, I imagine you’re stretched out beside me. We lay on cool green grass below a tall sprawling tree, sheltered from the blazing sun

you know how when you’re reading and you realize your mind has wandered? Well, my mind wanders to you

I fantasize about loving you. For this, I blame you and I blame Audre. In no particular order.

If I’m right, you think of me slightly less than I think of you, this both draws me back and drives me forward

List for me the following:

your favorite book

your favorite poem

your favorite song

I want to search for you in their words

The next time we are alone, I will not tell you how I feel

I write around you, not about you. I tell myself skimming over you is easier than diving in.

Wise Black Woman

It is not my duty to make you a better person.

This blackness was not
Gifted to me to better you.
To better yourself from knowing
Me, is an honor I gratefully accept

Do not misunderstand that
Gratitude for purpose – intent.

I walk out my days in this skin,
Constantly learning the causes and
Effects it imparts on the world Around me.

Yes, I walk out my days in the
Hope of leaving each place better – wiser.

I do not, however, seek to exist as
A token – an accessory.

Do not look to me to check your
Ignorance – temper your bigotry.
It is not my purpose to
Correct your words and actions

Though make no mistake – I will.

I will root out your bigoted remarks
And throw them in your face,
With the utmost eloquence and grace.

I am a docile sort – a gentle sort;
Until it goes too far
Until you cast me as the Helper –

The Wise Black Woman.

I am black, and I am a
Woman.  I am not however, an
Actor in your play.

Today I opened my eyes and
Found myself mid scene,
Playing a role I did not consent to;

So, I worked out the scene, spat out my lines
And exited stage left – if the show
Must to go on, it must go on

Without me.