You praise me for my features.
You think that my hips and my lips are so beautiful.
You rub my skin as if you’re stroking a brush on a canvas.
You compliment my mind and my personality because they keep you intrigued.
You even applaud me for how I carry myself most days.
You adore me for not being like other women.
I’m good enough to be whatever you deem me to be.
But everything isn’t as beautiful as it seems.
The same features you love are the same ones I poke at in front my mirror.
The hips you love are simply a reminder of the body people sexualize before I open my mouth.
My lips are just a constant reminder of how the world expects me to bridle my tongue before I’m deemed reckless.
Oh my skin, my pretty black skin is just another determining factor on if I’m good enough for the several titles placed upon me.
My mind and personality come from life experiences that I’m learning to accept and use as stepping stones into better.
Why better? When I’m good enough, right?
Because all the things you love are only skin deep.
The true beauty is found in my character and my spirit.
So good enough isn’t good enough when skin deep is just the start.
You want your fingers pressed against my skin when I want you deep in me—MENTALLY.
Skin deep is just the surface.