MY FRIEND. MY GIRL. MY SISTER.
My friend. My girl. My sister.
Myself in twenty years
I see in you and —
it’s actually kind of weird.
But we feed off each other,
Our energies relate,
Like rillos,
Like paper—
But the grass is all the same.
There’s something erotic about
That bond between black women
that affirms, “WE ARE IN THIS
TOGETHER!”
Our sharp criticisms, our juicy intellects
for custom clap backs
Respecting each other’s hustles
No judgment of our flaws
Midday conversations, followed by
evening recaps,
Sharing our sad realities,
Comparing generations,
And our own generational curses
Prioritizing our purpose, protecting
our purses,
We know why love is so important,
but we’re working.
Learning in our life labs,
exchanging wisdom,
Blossoming together, shining
together
In our own spotlights—unafraid.
Your children are our children.
Our over processed pains lead to our
unfiltered versions,
side-eyes and,
“True.”
My friend. My muse.
My girl. My confidant.
My sister. My peace.
