I Try (Part I)

I try to make myself beautiful for you.

I try to pin back and tuck away

the wayward strands of my kinky, coily hair.

Tame the wildness.

I try to accentuate the slant in my eyes,

add a rosy finish to my cheeks,

select a hue of lipgloss that best compliments my lips. 

I paint my nails in the hopes that I will exude femininity

from my fingertips to my toes.

I wear wooden bangles on my wrists

and eye-catching earrings adorn my lobes.

I try to wear attire that exudes a sumptuous blend

of elegance, sensuality and afrocentricity

in the hopes that you will be drawn to me.

I try to contain my instinctual urges;

to squeal in delight at things that tickle me,

to tilt my head and hunch my shoulder

when someone compliments me,

or to twist my mouth

when I feel uncomfortable...

as I have been told that this is not the behaviour of a lady.

I'm still unsure as to what you define as beauty..

Question: is the intensity of my skin tone too rich for you to digest? 

Well... let me break it down and feed it to you. Piece by piece.

Does my petite stature not hold your preferred ratio of body mass?

Well it can.

If you want it to.

Do the attributes you see

allow me to slot into the confines

of your perception of beauty?

And I don't mean comparatively.

I try.. I mean, I do. I really... TRY.

I keep a watchful eye on the door,

my ears prick up at the sound of footsteps.

But you are always gone by the time I look up...

Or maybe you were never there to begin with...

Or maybe they weren't your foot steps at all.

So... where are you?

(Read between the lines)