I am the color of my grandmother’s eyes, peaceful
in death.
The comforting smell of freshly brewed coffee
Gulped down as we remember her.
The unassuming worn bark peeking through soft green moss.
the cyclical smell of the earth after it rains
in growth, death, decay.
I am brown.
Not black/white… no deconstruction allowed for someone like me
a mediocre monolith
a undescriptive denial of my
rich/
/simple
Inter-generational brownness.
a warm/cool brown is all the same
a lack of whiteness.
I am more than your afterthought.
I will speak when I decide.
I will not hold my peace.
I am brown.
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Giving up Caffeine
Ever since I was 15 I would start my day with coffee. I saved up money for a few weeks and bought my own coffee maker. It was the very first piece of technology I ever bought myself. I remember putting in the filter, adding ground coffee, filling the machine with filtered water and setting the alarm. I kept the coffee maker in my room and the smell of fresh coffee would wake me up before school. It was what I drank when I got home from school and what I drank throughout the day on weekends.
By Elizabeth Grant3 years ago in Longevity
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