Still running

I honestly thought I was right

I swear, the light, seemed so clear

but the dots dancing around my feet dear

were firefly shadows.

the sound of my hubris is still ringing

singing a haunting refrain in B flat minor.

Songs about can’t.

How I can’t be a chameleon to your father

Why bother even trying

lying to the melanin

the tattooed sin of our love and rage.

And I swear the lightness of his skin

seemed so clear to me for you then

and I knew what you needed.

or I thought I knew I knew

what you needed to want

Because, to be blunt,  you looked tired of running with me.

and he could carry you to the end.

And was it right to pretend

while you bled from your knees

that the leaves falling on the track

did not track our eventual demise?

There’s no point in finishing a race, if the running stops your heart.

Right?

No

Because I was wrong

Because we are not interacial because

we are not between races,

we are still running for the life of us

And I am not crushed that they assume

that we rushed into this wall cutaneous

So don’t sing to about ebony and ivory

and don’t preach to me about chocolate and vanilla

and don’t talk at me about  the world being black and and white

or black and right

addicted to the sight that we, the prophets of posterity gave up for

half coherent text messages at 3 in the AM

pushing air just for the friction until we fall

into unconscious bliss

and this race is not over

Oh! not be a long shot  and

Oh! we shall run together and

Oh! the light bouncing off our conviction

like a freshly waxed car in the Garden State sun.

and the best part is

the only color reflected

Is the color of the rejected dogma.

The of us

The color of eternity.