An ode to my s k i n t o n e // R o y a l P u r p l e

God held a pencil when he drew my figure;

tracing the lead in every nook and cranny.

Small waist, small breast, butt - a bit bigger.

Slender arms and toned legs, let the palms of each be moist.

I, constructed from bones, muscle and skin,

Am, equipped with a womb that breathes life;

a precious flower that you came in, and came from.

Constructed from bones, muscle and skin.

My skin is black.

My skin is one with the deep aurorean,

indigo curtain cascading over the night sky.

night, I am Nuit.

And when day arrives, my darkness ascends

to pave a way for my light.

My golden sun-kissed skin glows,

as I absorb the warmth of a

healing sunrise till—sunset.

God held a paintbrush oozing royal purple,

feeling ecstasy with every stroke.

My skin is my throne, I sit inside it.

The star plants golden kisses, it doesn’t discard royalty.

Yet, I grew up thinking, that I was faulty.