I’ve always known that I wanted to be hot,

Not in the way you might think.

I woke up today wondering if I’d missed my ‘colouring’,

Not with my skin, (I love being black), but,

I’ve always felt I should have been born a redhead.

Can you imagine it? Adding that magnificent red to my black, the ultimate contrast.

Red, the colour that universally announces heat.

Is it any wonder that the hottest peppers are red?

I’m learning to react now,

After spending too long simply responding.

But I’m not doing a great job of it,

I’m still too soft-hearted, too light-headed,

Still reeking of that disgusting sweetness.

Just yesterday, I let someone off with less than a warning.

How pathetic!

I had hoped to give him some heat, even if just through my gaze.

Instead, I stood up feeling foolish and exhausted.

To think I even smiled during that excuse for a conversation is appalling.

What is it that makes up the fiery “ata rodo” we all love?

Is it biological, or should I dig deeper into my research?

Should I give up on finding that perfect combination,

Like a mad scientist,

One that could turn me from mildly feisty to full-on fiery?

Or should I just wait and hope that one day, I’ll finally ignite?

I’m trying to recall a time when I didn’t lose my cool,

When it didn’t matter whether I smiled or blazed.

But who am I kidding? I don’t have a vile bone in my body.

No matter how hard I try, all I do is play Ms. Goody Two Shoes.

I give out a nickel when a dime would suffice.

Why do I even bother?

The only thing I seem capable of changing is my lipstick.

Deep within, a spark flickers,

A tiny ember longing to blaze.

It whispers of strength, of a fire untamed,

Of a time when I’ll shed this gentle facade,

And finally step into the heat I crave.

For now, I’ll wear my red lipstick,

A small rebellion against the sweetness within.

A hint of the fire I hope to become,

As I wait for the day when the ember ignites,

And I become the flame I’ve always wanted to be.