reading her is like sharing a secret
that can't be spoken out loud.
words so simple, metaphors so apt
and between those lines are whispers
of pain and smallness and a seed of feminism
growing against the odds and because of them
into a sapling
that always belonged to the sun
how does she knowme
so well
and between those lines are whispers
that love and guilt can be the same
that a brown girl's daily bread
is worth poetry
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