heat? 

what else can the sun give me other than a hot burning unkind hug that tears apart the fore layer of my fragility? almost like the kiss of death, the darker i be (come)

(ɔmo pɛ sɛ ɔmo paint yɛn black but yɛ yɛ black deda) 

yes, this is us, we carry our skin everywhere we go.

when the going gets tough we hide behind it to endure. 

my skin, be my home

when all homes break down let me find refuge in being 

my skin, be my home. 

in my quest to find thee

dear sun,

when you set, let there be calm   

dear skin 

when you light, let there be dark 

i have spent months asking friends and strangers what home means to them.

one of the responses that still scratch my throat, is “i miss the heat”

what does home mean to you ?