[Prose] Buttermilk

By Aniliyah Richardson

To be rich in knowledge becoming thicker than abundance, her coatings are none other than the pride she was born with. She craved the self-respect of one’s selfless image. Folding into old habits through the skin of covered bandages holding it all in from slipping away through the line’s formed in her pores. “I’m ok” is a factor that plays in most heads. But none returns in the slights of “Are you ok’s” and truly mean it. Women were never meant to be compared to flowers nor to be handled with care. She was meant to mend nothing from the one who left you broken hearted. Saving the lives of others are profound as common curtesy, yet to become strong willed to the neglect of your own worrisome has been appalled for centuries. No one guided society to become this way towards her. The look upon structure creates bolder influence than leveling eye to eye. She glides in rage, hers. As the backhand you caress late at night to sleep, remember she is more than just the requirements that are met to the T.

Aspiring artist Aniliyah Richardson, is known for creating bodies of creative nonfiction, poetry, and short stories dedicated to the female formality while building an unapologetic point of view for complexed stories. Speaking with experience cautiously being the face of her own
truths to show the world of strong communities that we as once shall never be silenced again. These stories are for the broken and beyond measures proven what one sacred mind can possess. Living the truth of Her own path in order to remain free.

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