You came late to the party
and got stuck holding an empty
red solo cup.
Everyone there shared
your shade of melanin,
yet you still felt
like a stranger to them.
After too many nights like this,
you pushed your way out
of this skin and into the underworld.
By the time we noticed,
you were already
on the other side
of the River Styx.
So, like Orpheus,
we journey below,
and offer paragraphs,
prom photos, and poems.
But how hollow
are these words
said only after?
If there is a point to this myth,
it’s teaching us to stop
looking behind
because the Fates were never
going to give you back.
So instead, I take this
Bard’s oath to tear the lyre
from its constellation
and string the stars
into the shape
of your grin.