Just like this poem

When I was kid, my favorite color was red.

Back when life was a lot simple and colors were just colors.

In a way they still are but not entirely.

But entirely in the way that I love black and being it.

I don’t just see color, I embody it....

in ways that matter. Sadly also in ways that splatter

across a society that can’t quite face up

to the mirror

because righteous indignation rings hollow

when police killing reflects its true colors

Some can’t face the truth, as for me I stare back

This is America and I am black

But some days I am more Miles Davis

in how I feel kinda blue.

Basking in its hue as I let my emotions go

The tears, I let it flow

as it mixes with the waves that carry me float

The water covers me like stage lights at a show

And now I feel at peace like seeing yes even in a room full of no’s

I rise and now I am standing even as the water drenches me

like purple rain, singing a song that tomorrow will cause her sorrow.

For a brief second memories of our time in orange sunsets interrupt

But then it stops.

Because that feels like an inappropriate thought to have before telling your lover “it’s over”. Just like this poem.