No longer beauty
To love the flares of your elders and be proud that they echo in your reflection.*​
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*You saw me white light and light white, brighter than shame. You thought my birth would change your pigment saying: this, this is my beauty as if you had never been proud of anything that was yours. But I grew and the moonlight white of your blood and tradition, the paleness you adored, was overshadowed. You forgot that sunlight bleaches objects but darkens human flesh so I wore 90 SPF and Fair and Lovely Beauty Cream. Then, recoiling at your likeness, you turned away from me. In your wake, a winter storm of bitter ice between us, and all you said was: december suits you
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