Melanin & Moonshine: A Detox

Melanin & Moonshine: A Detox

Caramel skin under contraband moonlight,

slow-dripped silk in the thick of midnight,

sweet heat, heartbeat, bass in the backstreet—

I am sugar with a savage bite.

Melanin molten,

bronze and bolden,

stories folded in my hips like secrets stolen.

Moonshine burning down my throat—

reckless note,

velvet smoke,

every swallow a dare I wrote.

This caramel don’t melt.

It glows.

It swells.

It tells on every hand that ever tried to hold it wrong.

I detox in stilettos and sweat,

wring regret from my silhouette,

lick salt off my own silhouette—

silky, filthy, no safety net.

Taboo tastes better on brown skin.

Sin hums low in my abdomen.

I let it spin—

slow grin,

thick tension settling in.

Moonshine lips—

sip, slip, drip.

Caramel hips—

roll, control, eclipse.

They want the flavor

but not the flame.

Want the body

but not the brain.

Want the sweetness

without the claim.

I am overproof truth in a mason jar,

scarred star,

bar-top art with a rebel heart.

My thighs slightly sanctified,

slightly scandalized,

caramelized in the night’s hot sigh—

don’t ask why.

Just watch the way I detox desire.

Sweat out shame like steam from a fire.

I perspire power.

Hour by hour.

Flower after burning flower.

Caramel glistening, listening—

skin shimmering cinnamon sin again,

back arched like a question mark

begging the dark to answer it.

Moonshine in my bloodstream—

wild dream,

tight seam,

hips swing to a bassline obscene.

I purge every whisper that said

“Dim it.”

I spit it.

I live it—

unfiltered spirit.

This detox ain’t clean.

It’s messy, sexy,

edge-heavy and mean.

Caramel & moonshine—

sweet sting,

thick swing,

body like a bootlegged blessing in spring.

Touch me with respect

or don’t touch at all.

Because this skin?

This caramel glow?

It’s liquor.

It’s scripture.

It’s revolution in a slow burn flow.