Brewed into a black girl.
Yearning to taste something other,
Than the heat of her bitterness.
Nothing sweet in the absence,
Change the fundamentals of her form.
After all, nothing about her is beautiful,
Unless she is made sweet and silent.
Turn her wrath into submission.
The phoenix must remain ashes.
Choke her with sweet nothings,
Until she becomes malleable to your,
Shift her from the platform of her being,
Give her nothing but an empty shell.
She must learn to fill it.
Extinguish her fire until only,
The ashes of her soul remain.
Show her that only the cold can warm.
Wrap her in ice until she is frostbitten.
Pain shall be her comfort for all her days.
Leave no embers in the hearth where Hestia sits.
Her heart must mirror Persephone’s.
2 tablespoons of caramel syrup
The hue of her must never fall below,
Mahogany is still too dark.
We want the benefits without the black.
After all, her skin must be pale enough,
To reflect the insecurities.
Blend well and serve with whipped cream
After you have mixed her,
The cocktail of her destruction,
You hide the scars behind,
Her pain isn’t something you can illusion away.
Her galaxies collapse and crumble to create stars you couldn’t fathom.
She isn’t your cup of coffee
She can’t give you everything at the cost of her entirety.
Look not to boys with syrup sweet promises.
They lie for a little fix.
Most can’t handle the bite,
Of your caffeinated kiss.
How a girl could be so volatile yet at peace with her darkness.
They don’t understand you and your fires.
But soon they’ll see your worth.
After all, galaxies are only prettier at night.