You were all legs and deep brown eyes
Chocolate skin so inviting that if I were a room away, I could taste you.
Your braids cascaded over your shoulders like a midnight waterfall,
and as I looked at my pale hands, I thought, "She could never want me."
"They would never understand," I thought to myself
"I know my family." I looked in the mirror, my eyes slightly upturned.
But when you're near me, I melt like butter on a pavement in July.
I want to kiss your lips, hold your hand, and gaze into eyes the color of the sky,
and forget for a moment what my Asian parents have taught me.
Lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling with a slight smile painted on my lips...
I loved you deeply, bringing you to the brink of tears.
You wrapped yourself around me with raven hair flowing over my pillows.
Supple butter almond skin so soft, pressed tightly against rigid midnight muscle,
until I burst into you for the third time, lost in a flurry of Latin words.
My father fixed my veil, and then folded me into his arms.
Strands of my flaming red hair caressed my cheek, and I can't stop crying.
Lines that had separated us - compartmentalizing us into neighborhoods have been blurred.
Now I only see you, my African King, who will love and cherish me.
Loving all past hurts away, successfully blurring lines.
J.L. Whitehead
Written July 17 and 18, 2013
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