cinnamon thighs and daddy boys • poetry

year 1

i met you in first grade. you made fun of my accent, how my tongue rolled my r's and caught on my l's. and my brown skin which was three shades too dark for you and your 'very important and smart daddy'

oblivious to the fact that the same laughing mouth will have kissed the same skin, licked every corner and crevice of my soft copper frame ten years later. you'll be begging the same tongue to roll out your name, each echo louder than the other.