black
grey
blue
red
brown
white

Read the scars on my body like braille, for I no longer know how to tell a story that belongs deeply to me but is no longer mine.

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I always wanted to be more than my brown skin, when you told me I was sweet like cinnamon.
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If you wish to read the story of my people look no further than my body.
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I am only beautiful when my legs are open and I have forgotten my mother tongue to make room for yours.
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Read the scars on my body like braille, for I no longer know how to tell a story that belongs deeply to me but is no longer mine.
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Depression is the way my eyes have learnt how to close more than open.
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I loved you in quiet because to hide is to pretend that it is okay.
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This foundation can only take the beating of one heart.
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I want to be something to pray for but I don’t know how to be.
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Every beauty mark, a country to roam. Every stretch mark, a river to cross.
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