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K Bee Feb 2018
I am not all the things my words make me out to be.
While my tongue clucks of bravado and strength
my eyes search for the easy way out.
I tell tall tales of how I've gotten by
by the skin of my teeth
by my own daring and will
but the enamel is worn thin
from the nights I spend chewing over
the moments I wasn't ready for.
Every day the sun passes over me
is another day spent passing idle conversaton
of what I will do one day, only if, never when.
If I speak to those who construct their sentences
with actionable words
with authority
with that self-assuredness
that theirs is the correct path,
I find myself wondering when the day will come
that my own words
will shape the person I say I am.
When will I be the person I say I will be?
Not until
I write my own story,
instead of listening to those of others
while wishing I had
a story to tell.
Nov 2017 · 731
The Garden
K Bee Nov 2017
Look at this garden,
I grew it myself.
I whispered to the roses that were once wilting
You're stronger than this
so they could grow wild and beautiful.
I gave the sunflowers all my support
so that they could turn their faces to the sun
stand tall
and never worry about where their roots were again.
I gave them all my water
to keep them here
to keep me company
so I try to ignore
how parched they've made me.
Feb 2017 · 276
My voice
K Bee Feb 2017
My voice
may be heavy with water
but it is strong.
My voice carries.
It carried my head high
loud and proud
when my shoulders weren't strong enough.
It carried ships of men over the edge
of me
because they wouldn't pull over
and ask for directions.
My voice carries on.
Feb 2017 · 272
Divine Bodies
K Bee Feb 2017
I can count the constellations in your eyes
and tell which stars you named after me.
I know you swallowed the sun,  I can see it shining through your teeth
and don't think I didn't notice
the scorch marks on your lips.
You've been bathing in moonlight again, your hair is slick with it
and there's dust on your shoes.
And though you have multitudes of galaxies to get lost in,
I will send satellites to rope you in
and anchor you to my horizon.
Embrace my atmosphere,
there's more room to breathe when we're this close.
Can you feel how cold it is?
I can see my breath,  a vapor so thick it's obscuring your light.
I can't reach the rings you wear on the tips of your fingers,
so instead I will slip my hands
deep into your pockets
to steal your darkness away from you.
I wear it better anyway.
See! I love the way you smile at my touch and pull me in close, so that even the clouds don't fit between us.
What's it like, being infinite?
I know from up there you can see
the craters in my skin,
Wide crevices where the truth was chipped away.
I know you can see the forests of freckles,
the laugh lines that carve through mountains
that have crows feet perched in their peaks.
I know you can see the empty pools my eyes once were,
before they saw you and filled
because they finally found something to look at.
What's it like, to see everything?
It seems unfair,
how you can see the depths of my oceans
And the breadth of the deserts
where oceans once lay,
when I can't even see
what's behind you.
I want to see the ladder where your ribs meet your spine.
I want to see the scars on your shoulders carved by the comets that grazed them.
I want to see the bottom of your foot
so I can look at your sole and see how heavy your steps were before you met me.
I want to see the parts of yourself that you can't look at.
If I am a divine body,
you are the divinity
without you I wouldn't be able to see heaven
but for the stars above.
And if that means that sometimes I can't see the dark sides of your moons,
I can take solace in the fact that
you only want to show me the light.

— The End —