#porch poem #37 (Lillie's Battle)

Clouds of milk in her coffee.
My grandmother’s cup, though 
decorated with lilies, was crafted 
from clay. And everyone knew then 
that porcelain was better. In it, 
coffee black with clouds of milk that 
spread like foundations built on fine 
features. Clouds of milk blossoming in rip-
ples of coffee black, no more. 

Coffee clouds in milk, porcelain marbled
from perfect. 

Vitiligo’s mourning sip. 

We run a muck when others throw shade but no one ever talks about when we do it to ourselves. I can’t speak much on being called a nigger, by white folks but I’ve been called spot, tar-baby, blacky and even discriminated on by my own for MY color. Lets talks about that! #colorcomplex #colorism