I love the Skin I'm in. From the dark roasted coffee to the Hershey's kiss. From the roots of the earth to the sweet smelling Swiss Miss. There was a time where color was just a noun, a crayon on a page. But now the definition changes with age. I can no longer be the lavender petals or the sun that warms my face. Because now COLOR is all about race. I loved my skin then and I'll love my skin now. Look at my face and you'll never see me frown. Because this beautiful black queen loves being black and beautiful.