I have never known happiness whilst Melancholy’s hands cradled my cheeks, yet I feel less sorrowful when he kisses me tenderly and lets me taste the bitterness that lingers on the tip of his tongue.
Surrendering our defining color only to become the lack thereof suspends us between homicide and suicide. We are hence no more than simulacra of white vying with one another for the right to opacity.
She pushed me out of her body. He never let me in.
