KIARA
“I told a black boy I loved him today.”
KIARA
I told a black boy I loved him today. Told him that his existence is necessary. Told him something this country has never said.
And no, he wasn’t family or friend. In fact, I haven’t even ever met him. Don’t know much more about him than his name. But, I still said the words I have a hard time saying.
I told a black boy I loved him today. Prayed this paragraph would protect him. Prayed police wouldn’t pop off.
I wanted to tell him that I would lend him my shoulder to cry on. That if I could be human shield, I would. I wanted to give him my breath in case they tried to take his.
I haven’t met this black boy, but I told him that I love him. Told him that his skin isn’t criminal.
A black boy was murdered today. His last breath caught on camera. Showcased for the whole world to see. A Facebook Live turned funeral.
A black boy was murdered today and everyday. Told that Target on back isn’t worth the riot.
White boy says he can’t breathe with mask and brings AK47. Unarmed black boy says he can’t breathe with knee on neck. Black boy turns blue like moonlight.
Does his life matter now? Are you still shouting blue lives matter? Even if black boy is blue?
I told a black boy I loved him today.
He may not be family or friend, he may not live in my city or state, but his life matters to me.
