An Existence Marked in Heartbreak and Onyx by Ivy Ndambuki
Curse the boy who snatched the words
from your throat, young queen.
You were meant to rebuild the pyramids
with a single sigh.
Your breath, nectar sweet and warm
like fresh tea …
You were meant to rule over one and all
with the crown given to you at birth placed perfectly
atop your head,
reflecting the brown hue of your melanin-rich sheathing.
Your beloved did not
give you the strength and power you now possess,
his validation withers in the face of the strength
that emanated from within you.
You are natural, and sweeter than honey.
Gloriously independent and fierce