Midnights, you occasionally lingered
in my kitchen,
flicking cigarette ash in my sink
and sipping champagne
from my last plastic cup.
I get to my dorm room only to find Kiya and of course her no good boyfriend Derek there. No, I’m not jealous, but something about him doesn’t sit well with me. However, Kiya looks beautiful with her hair pulled up in curls, matte jewelry, and a silky white dress that looks lovely on her chocolate skin.
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When you talk about beauty,
your body opens up—like a question.
Ground water swells out of your eyes,
rolls down the quiet side of your face.
at 3 am love exists within self-inflicted fingerprints
all over your lonely mounds of subsaharan sugar cane
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