Wed, 01/29/2020 - 20:01 -- sphtrn

Mine, the color of salted toffee

Hers, a delicate cream

The perfect layer of latte foam

That lowers my self-esteem


Or maybe it's more of a porcelain white

Only opinion knows

Her dream-like complexion made of cloud

Was pigmented by a rose


My ceramic skin darkens without end

Even to the tips of my toes

I would trade for hers without complaint

As if we were changing clothes


But little did I know her thoughts

I never heard her cries

Her waxen face, humiliates

My skin was perfect in her eyes


There she goes, that gorgeous girl

She's out to buy my tan

I hide behind a shaded curtain

While she lounges in the sand


Products of our mother's love

They said they know what's best

"You're too dark" or "You look sick"

"Instead, go look like the rest"

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