He was my hallelujah, the answer to my prayers, and the reason behind the 7 scars spread across my body.

I hear the freedom in your voice,it sounds like chains falling off.

Dear Black Girl,

                             I know that you were inevitably built to live in the dark and cry tears with foams of segregation placed in your mouth,

I’ve always admired the will it takes for one to be soft,

I’m staring at a woman in the mirror, visions of who I used to be, a life I once gloried in, a place I never want to visit.

I wanted to heal, I wanted to heal so, so badly. So I started from my head, scrubbed out hands that touched it and promised to be there till the end, vain babblings spoken upon it.