a love letter

there are so many things i want to tell you

but i don’t know how. 

how do i tell you to love

your body and the melanin skin

when the ads for skin bleaching 

creams have been there your entire life? 

how do i tell you that you’re a goddess

and an african queen you don’t have

to pick one or the other when both 

reside inside. 

how do i tell you that your skin

is exceptional when all your life you’ve felt different

because of it? how do i tell you 

that your skin is like those men and women we celebrate

who fought against racial and gender injustices, like those who endured

so much and loved and cried and still survived?

how do i tell you that in twenty years 

the world will be invariably different, for good or bad

and you can be a part of that change? 

i don’t know how to tell you that you’re






and make you believe it. 

all i can hope is deep down

you do and one day

you’ll wear them like tattoos. 

i know you are all of this 

and more. All I know is this: 

sometimes it’s nice to hear. 

my hope for you is this: 

one day, you’ll see yourself

the way i see you. And when

that day comes, and trust me, it will

your world will never be the same. 

Almanac is our home for satire, sex, creative writing and much more. Satirical articles are intended as such.

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