Breadcrumb #467

MARA SILVÉRIO

I never was allowed to have a hero
listening to boring teachers in the back of the classroom
returning home and feeling invisible in your eyes
when you were there
I don't remember how many times you were there
I was lost in supplication for love
building plans on canvas and drawing my confusion on paper
hiding my childhood inside of my backpack's pocket
not receiving kisses like the others girls
being the weirdo, but pretending I didn't know
not having the same, helped me to find my creativity
being alone at home producing, watching the fake snow.

I was the messy kid looking for her first shot of vodka
leaning against the wall at the entrance of the bar
thrilled to feel hungover, trying not to throw up
like the ultimate challenge for a triumphant night
but resisting your hands pressing my tights in the dark
almost like the pictures I saw in the hidden erotic books
screaming beneath the bed when I was not around.

I never was allowed to have a hero
so I created my own
a black woman born as a contemporary goddess
she would struck gently my hair
she would never talk about my color skin
she would say that I'm beautiful
but not untouchable
that I can feel lost
that I can completely fail
that I can explore the difference
enjoying the horny sounds of my body.
My hero would play Isaiah Rashad for me
while I make peace with my daily struggle
Wat’s wrong, wat’s wrong, she says quoting
while pimping my butterfly in orange
smoother like a motherfucker
my hero would buy me popcorn as an eternal kid
but afterwards would sit in front of me listening as a calm adult
without any forbid
without any commitment
without any bid
because that's my advice: don't put me a grid
I can go over
I can fall and hurt
I can heal and punch.

I want a hero who doesn't set me a location
who prays the Lord God while holding my ash
who follows me to the midnight tent - fearing
who chases me inside of the car - starting
who is inside of my fast beating heart - maintaining my anesthesia.

I want a hero who sees the sin even in a saint
praising adventures like a secular faint.

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