From: Black Beauty

Ephemeral.

Because my beauty though supported by a few is only valid for a certain amount of time.

Like a bomb waiting to explode and release the true nature of my essence which to you is simply not good enough.

Because I’m pretty for an instant that is never longer than a kiss, the truth is... I am nobody’s true type.

Because I am good enough for an experiment but then it’ll blow up in your face that I am not worth your time.

I am desirable for a night but not enough for commitment.

My skin is exotic just in the summertime, when I’m wearing yellow like this colour was meant for me, you can ask me out for drinks but you’ll leave me hanging to go back home in time for the curfew.

To all the men who did not look like me, who gave you the right?

Who gave you the right to pick me up only to throw me to the ground and step on my bud? To judge me before I had time to bloom?

But even now, I do believe that you all are colour blind because you don’t see how gorgeous my colours are.

Because in the eyes of the world, a Black girl’s beauty is only good for a short amount of time and under so many conditions yet, the sun loves us so much he gave us this skin, and he misses us so bad, he gave us hair that grows towards him.

Our beauty is recognizable for seconds before it disappears into the clouds, the truth is, I am told that I am pretty so damn often yet it sometimes just feels like no one ever really means it.

Because women like me are the ones you use to lift yourself up, as you walk all across our backs, pushing our faces deeper into the mud.

The truth is I wanted to be wanted before knowing what it truly meant but Lord I still don’t know if I’ll ever get there.

Because by the time the word “pretty” leaves your lips it has already lost its meaning, it is no longer true.

Because us Black girls were made to uplift everyone, from making you laugh to keeping you strong, and by making sure that gurl you know where you belong.

We are the partners in crime who can’t find a cell mate, we are the lock that nobody wants to open, we are the hand nobody wants to hold because “we are strong and independent and we do not need no man” but the truth is, our hands get cold too during the winter time and our lips get lonely during those summer nights.

Im tired of being the last bell you ring, is it because we’re magic that we don’t deserve the real thing?

But I will no longer listen, no longer care, I am so much more than your judgmental stare.

I am beautiful from the root of my curls to the end of the world.

I am too busy loving my sisters to hear you compare me to all the others.

To all the men who do look like me, how can you be so blind?

To not see the beauty in your own then go join the ones throwing us stones.

I am done begging for love, I am sending myself a Black dove.

Hating yourself to you may be visceral, but to me it was just Ephemeral.