You who are the gentliest of nights

Which people only see in galleries 

You who have been put down

For your oil pencils have not layered enough

You who wants justice

For all those wronged for exactly the same things you have

You who, with that justice, want a vast canvas smudged in salmons and ambers

Unbothered by others telling you who you should be

Or if your greens are good enough

Or if your ivories show too much

Or if your browns are overpowering

You who acknowledge the world 

That it might give you red x's

You who brush past how even the closest of your friends

Have called you words and slurs your mother hasn't heard of

They call you "yellow"

You who call out my name to show your blues

Then forget it immediately and forgive

You who forgive too much

Even the canvas has shown its wear

You who still sink your teeth into every bite life has to give you

And comment on how every flavor has helped your palette

You who bring out the lilacs in me

People may gawk or snarl at your hues

But you are a mix of colors they haven't dreamt of