<p>I’ve always known that I wanted to be hot,
</p><p>Not in the way you might think.
</p><p>I woke up today wondering if I’d missed my ‘colouring’,
</p><p>Not with my skin, (I love being black), but,
</p><p>I’ve always felt I should have been born a redhead.
</p><p>Can you imagine it? Adding that magnificent red to my black, the ultimate contrast.
</p><p>Red, the colour that universally announces heat.
</p><p>Is it any wonder that the hottest peppers are red?
</p><p><br></p><p>I’m learning to react now,
</p><p>After spending too long simply responding.
</p><p>But I’m not doing a great job of it,
</p><p>I’m still too soft-hearted, too light-headed,
</p><p>Still reeking of that disgusting sweetness.
</p><p><br></p><p>Just yesterday, I let someone off with less than a warning.
</p><p>How pathetic!
</p><p>I had hoped to give him some heat, even if just through my gaze.
</p><p>Instead, I stood up feeling foolish and exhausted.
</p><p>To think I even smiled during that excuse for a conversation is appalling.
</p><p><br></p><p>What is it that makes up the fiery “ata rodo” we all love?
</p><p>Is it biological, or should I dig deeper into my research?
</p><p>Should I give up on finding that perfect combination,
</p><p>Like a mad scientist,
</p><p>One that could turn me from mildly feisty to full-on fiery?
</p><p>Or should I just wait and hope that one day, I’ll finally ignite?
</p><p><br></p><p>I’m trying to recall a time when I didn’t lose my cool,
</p><p>When it didn’t matter whether I smiled or blazed.
</p><p>But who am I kidding? I don’t have a vile bone in my body.
</p><p>No matter how hard I try, all I do is play Ms. Goody Two Shoes.
</p><p>I give out a nickel when a dime would suffice.
</p><p>Why do I even bother?
</p><p>The only thing I seem capable of changing is my lipstick.
</p><p><br></p><p>Deep within, a spark flickers,
</p><p>A tiny ember longing to blaze.
</p><p>It whispers of strength, of a fire untamed,
</p><p>Of a time when I’ll shed this gentle facade,
</p><p>And finally step into the heat I crave.
</p><p><br></p><p><img src="/media/inline_insight_image/flame 1.jpeg" style="background-color: transparent;" alt=""></p><p>For now, I’ll wear my red lipstick,
</p><p>A small rebellion against the sweetness within.
</p><p>A hint of the fire I hope to become,
</p><p>As I wait for the day when the ember ignites,
</p><p>And I become the flame I’ve always wanted to be.
</p><p><br></p><p>
</p><p>
</p>
ITS NOT JUST ME, I'M SURE.
By
Chidera Odom