Black Girls.

He said he doesn’t like black girls,
So she painted herself red. Hoping
That the color of love would make him love her,

As the red began to fade into troubled
Shades of pink upon the chocolate brown of her skin,
He began to grow faint, leaving her with the forged memory of
The soft kisses of his fingertips.

She tried once again, to win back his love.
Painting herself with brilliant shades of green and blue,
Hoping that the colors of nature would bring a love
That should come so naturally.

But, alas, the springtime
Was taken over by the harsh grays of a solemn winter’s
Night, turning her heart of gold into a swirling pit
Of tar, pressed firmly against purple lungs as
Her crimson heart waned away.

Working hard to mask away her true colors
Made her forget about the brilliant rainbow hidden behind
The clouded veil of unrequited love.