How many shades of pink can I hold (onto)?

This is a shadow poem
of a poem I once wrote about the color pink
What I said in the original poem was all truth
What I said in that old poem was mostly lies
This poem is a flashlight
staring down my old poem

Pink was the saddest color of my past
Pink is the brightest color of my future
Mama loved me in all shades of pink
Magenta, blush, fuchsia, flamingo, even salmon
She liked when I twirled in pale pink pointe shoes
“Plié, pirouette Juliet,” Mama said and
I would spin like a little ballerina wind-up doll

Mama mostly loved dolls
She collected vintage miniature baby dolls
with matching layette sets, usually in pink
Soft pale pink, pink so pale it was really white
Some days Mama thought I was her doll
She tied each of my two perfectly braided long plaits
in pastel pink polka dot velvet bow-tie hair bows
I remember now, those were my favorite

If I should ever forget

Dear future self,

If I should ever forget you,
this is my love note to you

You were loved
You were somebody’s lover
You were loving
You held parts of all the women you loved,
somewhere deep in your generous heart

You were heartbroken
You were a heartbreaker too, girl
Sometimes you were heartache
Your heart never grew heavy though,
I remember that about you

You were silly
You were giggles
You were somebody’s Mama
You always wanted to be a Mama
Mama was the greatest title you ever had

You were jealous as fuck
You were selfish
You were sad
You held other folks’ sadness,
especially Mama’s sadness
you buried hers deep in your heart

You were swag
Leo charm and confidence
Couldn’t nobody crack you up,
as much as yourself

You were cute and you were vain
You wore smudge-proof lipstick under your mask
during a pandemic,
because you were cute and you were vain

You loved your family
Your lover loved you for decades
Sometimes you would ask yourself,
How I get so lucky?

You loved people
You were at home on a stage in front of a mic,
sitting in a circle with community,
or talking one-on-one with a friend
for hours on end in a coffee shop

You were a poet
You are a poet
This is your love poem to yourself  Juliet

JP Howard is the author of SAY/MIRROR (The Operating System), a Lambda Literary finalist, bury your love poems here (Belladonna*) and co-editor of Sinister Wisdom Journal Black Lesbians–We Are the Revolution!  JP curates Women Writers in Bloom Poetry Salon and is a general Poetry Editor for Women’s Studies Quarterly. Her poetry is widely anthologized. http://www.jp-howard.com