"His dark skin makes me a whore, you say?
but he never touched me!
Never even kissed me goodnight!"

"But you talked and…"

"Oh, and so I’m no good?
I’ve wasted my life,
Turned away from my own heritage,
Lost touch with what’s important?

Important to who?"

His kind eyes were all that held me,
His ears listened to my fears as his words soothed them away…

OK,
so he did touch me.

He put his arms around me as we watched the waves on the shore
But that was all,
All I needed, but more than you can handle,
Because your own eyes can’t see his,

Only his skin.

Skin that makes me a whore
Because one night it brushed up against mine."

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