My Eyes Are Green

My skin is not yellow,

Nor is it brown.

Instead they call it olive, like a nice mix.

Olive like the oil.

Olive like the tree.

Like the garnish in the drink, you can’t miss.

But me, I am not olive-skinned enough.

So I am considered white.

So I can not speak on these kinds of things,

Even if they make me feel something’s not right.

My eyes are green,

But my skin is white

With undertones of pink,

And an impossible shade of blue that dives,

Dives through my veins and takes flight

Providing me life.

And pink and blue together, they make purple, you see?

And that’s no coincidence at all,

Because together they make the flag of someone who loves both genders equally.

And that too is a part of me.

I chase ruby red lips,

Watch the little watch of time tick away on her wrist,

And I lay with men who leave purple bruises on my hips

I even let one turn me blue, his indigo smile one I’ll never forget.

And thus maybe I’m new,

A mix of a color not yet created

Because if I fit in to all or none of the boxes I’m equally hated,

Equally fated.

For I, not yellow, nor brown, nor orange or red,

And I, who knows of purple and blue I won’t ever forget,

Yes I, with white not quite olive skin,

and love for those who love me?

All I know for certain,

Is that my eyes are green.