What did I expect?
To leave a haemorrhage
of violets wherever I walked?
No. A lost son is called prodigal.
A lost daughter is just called lost.

we were created for each other
truly
not Adam and Eve
but Adam and Lilith

i was not created
from your rib
i was not created
to appease
your toxic masculinity

i was created
from the same clay
as you

equals
in the eyes of god

I used to think blue eyes were pretty,
his were not.
his were not cornflower, sapphire, baby, indigo, azure,
or cloudy sky blue.
His were midnight where the light pollution from the city blocks the stars.
Iceberg, squall, hypothermia, eventual death

"i was written by a man" this "i was written by a woman" that.
i was written by myself because no one had the energy to pick up a pen and do it for me. i wrote myself with scavenged ink and put myself together bit by bit with agonizing scrutiny because no one wanted to write the details

I wanted to be born as a star
but someone had a different idea.

That's how I ended up as a street lamp. I die too soon and flicker too much. But yesterday I saw a moth trying to kiss me. It almost burned her.
I have heard stars do not get this luxury.

In shadows her world
In stillness she drifts , jaguar
Eyes piercing flame blue