Dark Brown Curls

September 4, 2010
By , Hawthorne, CA
I hear her every whisper, I hear her every cry.
And then I watch as she waves goodbye.
I see the sun set around her fears,
letting her drive miles from here.
Summers are when her smiles shine,
avoiding any cup of wine.
She’s like a shooting star: scared and lonely in the world.
A waterfall falls down her cheeks,
never knowing what stretches out the nights.
She was left in the dark,
separated by racism and critiques.
I needed her to believe;
I needed her home.
She was believed a mistake, never having found her voice.
To say, “I want…”
She’s a world that’s interrupted mine.
And she’s not a judge.
I see her fears covered by sun,
then watch as she sprints
Into a run.
Pitying her dark haired curls as they leave.

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