I thought we were building stone castles
a serious limerick
you admitted you wouldn't have cheated on me if I wasn't a Black woman and that day
I showed you Lemonade since I thought it could say all the things I couldn't say
about how since girlhood I had prepared for this inevitability, heart etched like mattoir
still, I thought I could build us back up like Beyoncé and teach you about misogynoir
but, as I found out, sandcastles don't work out that way
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
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