HE
was one
of the “good” black men.

You know:

One of the ones
That was
“brought up right”

Never sold drugs
A day in his life.
Always kept
Success in his sight.
A bible in his left hand,
And a degree in his right.

And even as he was grown
His momma couldn’t help
But to hold onto him tight.

She wasn’t tryna hear it
When he told her his girlfriend
Was white.

Tightened her lips
When he said
I think I wanna make her my wife.
Instead she sneered at him
with her eyes
And said
“you know that ain’t right”

He only hoped,
That she’d see the light

but the first time
She met me…

All she saw--

was white.


And I…

I’ve never felt
So obscure
In my life.

Looking down her nose..
(in spite of me)
She couldn’t look past
my pale mask
To see the woman
That resides
INSIDE of me..

Or that
I was indeed
ALL
she’d ever hoped
Her sons’ wife
would be.

ALL- except..

I wasn’t of the same hue.

And together
instead of looking as one,
(to some)
we’d look as two.

And understanding
a black man’s plight,
Is just something
a white girl
Could never do..

Or so she assumed.

But without getting to know me
She never knew
All the things
that I’d been through
Let alone
For her son
All the things that I’d do.
.
.
.
Looking at her,
It seemed
our love had become
the greatest taboo

and I just wanted
To break the silence
As it stood still
And tell her
It wasn’t my will

To steal all the “good” men

In fact--
HE
had stole MY heart
And had kept it since then

I wanted to tell her
Over and over again
That all I wanted
Was just--
to love HIM.

But she…

She had already
Color-coded love
And in turn
painted
A perfect picture
That I
Was unworthy of…

All because..

my bare skin

.simply.

paled in comparison.