Notes from April in April 2017:
Black. Blank pages for your birthday.
Instead of mountains. Instead of forest green. Ocean blue. Desert.
Where brown girl burns golden
We moved to the sounds and our bodies ached with a knowing.
Are you safe inside your body?
All i knew then: we stop feeling somehow.
I remember once: The slightest touch
We held hands to comb through crowds
When it pours out. Water down a body, the back arches. Bends.
I feel better when you touch me–I feel alive when i’m next to you.