Brown Suga Babe

Brown Suga Babe

imagery for the mind's eye.

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  • December 6, 2022

    Funky Good Time.

    Funky Good Time.

    Odette gets home an hour after her daddy.  He comes home and opens all of the windows to release the lingering stench of his chain smoking. If he’s in a good mood, the record player is spinning one of his favorite records. James Brown can be heard from down the street, proclaiming that we’re gonna…

  • November 8, 2022

    The Last of It.

    The Last of It.

    The closet will be the last of it.  Blake needs to get out of this house, molt the memory of it like a growing reptile. Her boss didn’t make a fuss when she requested a transfer. In under six months, Blake sold her house and found a new place across the country. The last thing…

  • June 7, 2022

    Sweetest.

    Sweetest.

    Constance Sloane hates the summer. She works the farmer’s market, spending hours selling and transporting fruit under the South Carolina sun. The days end with Constance sticky, plum-scented, and dark. She could rinse the sticky, scrub the smell, but that dark is staying until the mid-winter. She hates it. The calendar by her mirror has…

  • September 11, 2021

    Blackberry.

    Blackberry.

    The sun sits high in the sky, nestled between dense clouds. Branches of an old oak break the sunshine apart. Alma stretches her limbs across the grass underneath. The sun graces her rich skin in slits. She basks in the sun until she hears her voice.  “Alma! Hey, my Alma!” She yells into the open air of…

  • February 15, 2021

    Starlight.

    Starlight.

    THE VALENTINE’S SERIES: TWO. I’ve had a dream about us, one that plays in my head over and over. In my subconscious, you exist among the galaxies. You hop from one star to the next, illuminating each one in your path. When you feel as though the sky is bright enough, you come down and…

  • February 15, 2021

    Condiment.

    Condiment.

    THE VALENTINE’S SERIES: ONE. At a time where our next moves are especially unpredictable, it’s reassuring to know that I can count on you. Your love is comforting, safe. You demonstrate finesse in the way you care for me, fluid movements as if you’ve performed this dance many times before. To experience you the way…

  • October 5, 2020

    Reflect.

    Reflect.

      I watch her walk by me every day. She’s beautiful. I wish I could tell her. I part my lips to speak, but I can never find the right words to say. I want to confess my love. I adore her.  My heart beats for her, even when she doesn’t feel the same. Sometimes,…

  • May 27, 2020

    Wounds/Garden

    Wounds/Garden

    I lay my body down to rest in the soil. It is moist against my skin, dark like me. I rest and I think. I can feel my body loosen; I peer down my chest as I begin to unravel. My wounds open and I hiss from the pain. A heart can’t beat when it’s…

  • May 12, 2019

    Super Hero.

    Super Hero.

    26 years ago, you did something that many would turn and run away from. 7 years later, you did it again. Through uncertainty, judgement, and fear, you became a mother, something that I am forever grateful for. You’ve stood by me through tough times, accepted me for who I am, and raised me to know…

  • April 2, 2019

    Weather.

    Weather.

    its funny how the weather changes the wind picks you up, changing you too sun beaming on your skin, reminiscent of the good times you think back to smiling till your cheeks hurt, popsicles dripping onto your hands your energy is high, the day is bright. there you go again, caught in the wind the…

  • September 20, 2018

    Nostalgic.

    Nostalgic.

    Empty. Brown skin against the cool glass of his car, green eyes staring into the dashboard, Micah felt. . . empty. A feeling of what if turned into what is, dwindling into what was. She was there until she wasn’t, a shooting star illuminating a black sky before returning the space to its dark hue once more. She…

  • August 21, 2018

    Introspective.

    Introspective.

    It’s frustrating. Heart pounding, blood boiling. The feeling of white-hot anger behind eyelids, searing the image into the mind. There are so many unanswered questions, loose ends left frayed and separated. What does one have that the other doesn’t? Why does one look at themselves differently, pondering the idea of flaws or insufficiency because they…

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