Black, Lesbian, Womanist

      Her skinny canvas for ultraviolet brush strokes,
She was the sun’s painting,
She was a deep cognac color,
Her eyes sparkled like lights along the new city,
Her lips pursed as if her breath was too sweet and full for her mouth to hold.

      Focused. I’m a hustler. And my hustle is trying to figure out the best ways to do what I like without having to do much else.

      I ignore your aura but it grabbed me by the hand
Like the moon pulled the tide,
and the tide pulled the sand.

      I dreamt that I could paint you with words
But there were no colors bright enough,
Black or white enough,
Blue or green enough, it didn’t mean enough.