Letter to my young self

Dear Tweety,

Misunderstood

Awkwardly built

Unsure of the depth to your beauty no matter how much you pretend

Your make believe worlds are fun, but you escape to those places to be listened to

Michael listened, Prince listened and your baby doll Chartreuse Magenta Cara, she listened

Ms. Billie Holiday strutted  her stuff to the record player in that black dress Mama bought from Goodwill but never let you wear outside the house 
You kept your spunk and raced so fast down the block to Mackenzie street when Tookie and Lawrence won, teased and called you a baby.

You helped us forget all the bad, the beatings and the fingers in places they should not have been

Please know that you will remain innocent forever

I thank you for always remembering to play

Love Rosalind & Deniece 

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