If love knows no color
Then why does it hate black?
Repulsed by my defiant hair
Beckoning him to get lost within the dark wilderness of my locs-
Instead love rather pull the sparing threads of someone colorless.
Disgusted with my russet skin
(Though he shares the same trait)-
Love has chosen to see the absence of color.
Revolting is the thought of suckling my voluptuous breasts,
Whose natural credence and gentleness agrees with gravity
with nipples engorged, primed for gratifying love.
Love rather suckle the perfectly perky tits that will stand at attention… forever.
Love rather suckle the pale pink and white tits of a new-born’s pacifier.
Maybe love is lazy and the thought of working so hard bothers him.
Instead of caressing my new-born baby thighs that smother the chill of the air,
Love rather cherish long, firm pencil legs that pierce and may break with too much impact.
How horrendous that I have the audacity to think that if love knows no color-
He included my Black.

1st Draft
February 3, 2009
Tiffany Meador