“I am a girl of color now,” she tells the mirror, again. I lay sprawled on th bed and watch her adorn herself meticulously. She brushes her long raven locks and braids them into one thick rope, adding such garish decorations as sparkling butterflies and golden flower clips. I sigh but she appears not to… Continue reading river called denial
Tag: braids
Sort of a cold smile…
This is just a dream that I had last night. It hasn’t left my mind since I woke up so I thought I’d write it down during English class. They thought I was writing a play or something.
An Acre of Glass that does not crack.
Lying upon an acre of glass, I am sick ofhearing them bang their crucifixesagainst the bullet-proof surface. Their tongues want my entropy. I sit up and look at the underworld.Beneath the glass, twisted blue facescurse my name and lick their barriers. Iwant out.