evolution of self-love/hate

little brown skinned girls, with skinned knees
and pigtails
skin bleeds
laughter in streets fade into the sound of the wind
and the colors of the day swirl
and night falls

she's alone in her thoughts again
the place where he creeps in
and empty memories
seep in
like spilled juice into a carpet
soaking up until it
stains the wood floor beneath
stains her ability to believe

quiet idolization of a figment
brown like her, with her lips,
maybe her hair
if he saw her in his reflection would he even
stop to care
smoke billows from between lips that curl
and curse
sometimes fake amusement creases
that face
but mostly it's a mask of centuries of self-hate

pigtails become pressed hair
dresses with bows becomes jeans and shirts that cling
behind her eyes is a hardened stare
the kind that years of neglect can bring
he dances like a mirage in the distance
she waves him away waiting for the bus at the bus stop

time to stop dreaming
time to realize
he'll never see the hurt behind her eyes
father
daddy
man
sperm donor
heart breaker
she's empty on one side