Sunlight

Sunlight

If I tell you a poem about the bandages I've placed on my wounds, would you lie with me?

Would you lie with me if you saw my shadow drift from me in the sunlight?

Seperate from me and tell you all the ways I've repressed it, would you lie with me?

If it walks freely and expresses itself in ways you've never seen before because it doesn't fit the image I've curated.

Would you lie with me if it starts to suck you in when it starts to feel abandoned?

Should I make sure I don’t walk in rays of sunlight so you won’t see my shadow?

Will you be so distracted by it that you won’t see the way the sun kisses my face?

The way the sun kisses my face, making my melanin skin turn golden.

The way my melanin skin glows and reflects the warmth of it. 

The warmth of it that I hope you feel because I may feel cold inside.

Would you lie with me if you saw my shadow drift from me in the sunlight?

Sarai R