A little over two years ago, a man came into my life. He changed the way I breathe, the way I think, the way I feel, the way I love. He has all the good qualities of my father mixed with the best of my mother. He is stubborn and a pain in the ass and sometimes I feel like punching him in the face. But all it takes is his obnoxiously loud laugh and his arms around me for me to completely melt at his feet. I feel so safe. So loved. So at peace. The tragedy of my day was calmed by his voice. My breathing steadied when I saw he texted me. My heart stopped and restarted with a willful energy when he spoke those words I hold so dear: “I love you.” And I love him, too. Mind, body, and soul. He is mine and I am his. And no racial boundaries could ever stop us. Yes, I am a 19 year old black girl in love with a 21 year old white man. At least, that’s how the world sees us. To me? I’m just a girl in love with a boy



I just gotta find a southern boy….

That will let me feed him home-made pie
And kiss his face clean
Let me sing lullabies while I play in his hair
Our legs tangled in bed
That kisses my neck while I cook dinner
His arms wrapped around my waist
Lets me sit on the edge of the tub, humming