Every Girl is A Colored Girl



“Maybe that test was jacked.” You say.

You feel hurt. You are confused. You’re hoping this frantic episode will clear enough for to form a singular thought.

You are experiencing betrayal.

Hurt: To whom it may concern,


He had no right to run in your garden. Trampling row upon row of delicacy

Where the innocence of Perennials was once laid now grows blood red broken petals

With each waking breath, each contracted muscle those blood red broken petals break even more.

Reminiscence turns into getting rid of his essence. You scrub so hard under the suds erect bruises.

You don’t want him or even a portion, so this scenario ends with you and abortion.

Confused: To whom it may concern,


The embodiment of everything perfect gone wrong. The kind of stuff that fortifies killer MTV.

You unlocked the gates to your garden voluntarily to Hunter, Chase, Morgan, Malcolm, Dean, and Morrissey.

What’s more/worse you see is that post-squatting over porcelain bowls making your water fall over sticks of 99.9% certainty, you overestimate that he’ll stay.

‘Cause “with a baby we’ll be together forever and always”

But reality sucker punched you decent

When recent professions of pregnancy were sent and sent back with a read receipt

They don’t care.


They got what they wanted.


“but baby it’s yours I promise!”

Misuse of your garden Colored Girl

Even the least skilled of botanists know you don’t let boys in past the cotton

Kisses will suffice. But they trampled your garden severed your trust

To whom it may concern: your hurt and confusion and vandalized gardens will not perpetuate.

As you listen you feel this was written for you. As if this was just for colored girls who could feel metal horses gnawing at their wombs

But this is for the pigment-less women whose lives are colored not by melanin but by

Blood red broken petals.

By the blood of desecrated tombs and emotional wounds that so recklessly tainted her garden.

Emotional wounds that were so brutally carved into her delicate walls

So ravenously etched into her pocketbook and the bastard didn’t even care to color in the lines.

In this world every girl is a sufferer.

In this world every girl is a colored girl.

Written by Devonne

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