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It’s woven into the fibre of my being to expect tragedy. Even in the wake of the good things my mind is plagued by the thought of what could be.
In the middle of the warm Atlanticwhere there are small islands in the Caribbean seawhere white sand beachesstretch a long distance the end you can not see
Heard trumpets from afar this morning, closed my eyes to embrace a memory of warm winds and white sand. The smell of salt water and Caribbean cuisine laid still in my mind, for a brief second.
I’m from my mother's cooking
Hello, my name is "Chinese" "Japanese" "Dirty knees" "Look at these" "Criss cross" "Apple sauce" "Do me a favor and get lost"
Swinging my hips side to side like they ain’t got no business Looking at your lips, they can make some mean Caribbean kisses Dreads mid-way your back