Locked.

Both her her hair and gaze.

Eyes that held more stories than a village elder of an ancient tribe. Hair, kinked and coiled from the crown of her head,

She wore crowns in her dreads,

As well.

Wide lips and a sharp tongue-

Both, that like her eyes, have seen some shit.

A soft jawbone

Underneath caramel skin that lay between ears that saw the world before she could.

Hanging from from there were feathers,

As light as she was, compared to her family.

A curved nose, not quite one of those button ones to seal away her blackness,

Simply a soft one, that bridged between two brows that seemed to blow away in the wind.

No make up to cover the lack there of,

Like her life style,

Her hair,

Her heart,

Natural.

Divine

Skin that told stories that she would never have to,

A warped history pulled together by a wrap upon her head, black like both her pants and her shoes.

Black, like the pupils in the middle of her chocolate iris’,

Shadowed by purple, as were her lips, that lay to rest under sculpted brows,

Complimented by silver that hung from her ears, her neck, and her ankles.