I could gift you broken dishes Stained in crimson and ecru You Would hold them in your soft fingers Pliant / tenderly caressing the cracked edges Of old bowls and plates empty of Nourishment or reciprocity Pricking your hands, stealing Beads of your life Your voice, your calm Deep shades of ruby red Drizzling downContinue reading “You”
I think about the sun sometimes. Being her. Perhaps exploding with her, our brilliant light streaking through the universe like a crashing orgasm, leaving the planets and stars shaking, thrashing about contentedly.
Som days I look like my dad… distant, and very selective about my outward show of emotions. Other days, I seem to hold my mother more. Co dependent and relentlessly empathetic. I hope to soon look like myself. A self actualized version of the nappy headed girl who could not find a place to fitContinue reading “Some days”