The Egyptian
Those eyes talk
to my soul
wanting to say so much
but they’ve been dulled,
sadness snuffing out light
or was it
worry? Was family left
to burn in hot sun?
Were you never free
to grow up?
I’ll never know
but wish to with
my three wishes,
wish to know your story
the chapter of sorrow
behind mahogany brown,
ask if eyebrows were always
on fleek,
does hair coil
under that perfectly wrapped fabric?
Would my interest ease the corners
of your mouth upwards
into a smile or pull
them further down?
Would you look at me blankly
wonder how I was so silly,
more depth to outer beauty.
