Self Love

Where was I? unusual. behind the dizzying looking glass, cement block, panelled windows, noonish saloons sipping my loathing like mosquitoes milking stone veins constipated. contemplating pretty suspects and their banditry of spotlight and shadows; cute fashions with their dreamboat accessories. Snatched away! Who was I? a deserted quotient. All of me, crumbs sucking thumbs, snorting baby powder, perfumed by heaven's hope, resisting hunger and decomposing inside career mascot attire - long-sleeves and layered layers buttoning down body shame. Where were we? Ten-and-less aisle, bargain corner debates. Okay, maybe unquestioned. Neither taken, nor given as a suggestion, no soft eyes pursuing my pepper coarse afro edges, rising bust, diffusive thighs and stooped shoulders. Hominim deflated, experiencing overqualified non-affection as a ruminant beast, between ungovernable lioness and resigned kitten. I was left holding a pen, multiplying stereotypes around fatherless girls without an agreeable image of self who fell for blank pages to redraw the stages that had failed hearts. Flesh.