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You said you could never love me because I hold my knife and fork wrong,
When you said “wrong,” all the shades of brown flooded my cheeks.
I felt the same shame I did when I was nine learning about slavery and everyone’s eyes fell on
me.
When I tried to respond to you the words master almost slipped out,
How could I ever eat with you again when I know where I belong.
My white gloves illuminated the silver cutlery,
I do not dare touch the silver without gloves.

​

You said you could never love me because I hold my knife and fork wrong,
You expected me to laugh.
What a silly thing to not love someone over silverware.
I guess I’m used to being the joke,
I can’t eat watermelon on without choking on the noose,
I’m always the punchline.
I can’t get mad because you’ll think I’m dramatic,
then laugh
I cannot be caring because you’ll mistake me for mammy.

​

You said you could never love me because I hold my knife and fork wrong,
But loving you was putting all the love I could never give myself to good use.
I wasted my Black Girl Magic on a friend who could not see past my clumsy skills.
You love someone whose gloves are not stained with shoe polish,
I cannot stop my hands from googling how to bleach my skin.

My Black Girl Magic is suddenly heavy yet so barren in my chest.

​

When you said you could never love me because I hold my knife wrong,
You pierced me as if I were a rare steak.
You left me bleeding like every white boy who fucked my brains out,
Not because he loved me, but because
he wanted to take back his rightful power over me.
He didn’t have to fuck me to have it

​

I spent my whole life trying to be invisible,
I wore the right clothes
I never learned how to dance
I only allowed myself two braids
I tried to be poised
I’m never angry
I majored in English for my eloquent way with words.
My eloquence acted as camouflage,
Until you.

​

When my therapist asked me why your words hurt so bad,
I struggled to say
“Because he made me feel Black”