Knees skipping around on tar-traced street corners,
blood sleeping like the wine in DRIVER'S cup.
Purple-blue bruises boil over into the left lane-
Like the car that hit her.
Swerving, cruising, napping away.
Gentle hum and reckless sways turn into a
Crunching thud, splattering what COULD be a puddle onto
the roads.
Slippery smooth frost, lover, except winter was now called
DRUNK...

Knees the color of a powdered apricot-
Red POOLING around the body...
Past the legs..,
Into hell, 'cause her body would never be with her soul again.

And he
KEPT
ON
CRUISING.

In regards to my recent behavior.

I apologize deeply for falling out of your pristine lines.
See, when I confessed to you
That evening, I believed you'd understand
TRAUMA


Your mind goes to
GLASS,
Clinking in ice cups like when I tell you I cry to sleep-
You'd rather not think about the pain
Coursing through my veins
As those shards carve me away.

That's why you hide
At the slightest mention of
DAMAGE.

Your expectations, I pray, have not increased the slightest!
I no longer apply to those lines, society.
Lines that are
Perfect photocopy girls.
Pleated skirts and a man to keep us in line.
It's what you deem "Easiest" and "Normal", right?
One hair out of place and I might infect your society-acceptable bubble!
Why add pain?
Image matters, after all.
Oh, the woe of my existence is
Such a BLEMISH on your school's
-IMAGE-
And we wouldn't want the world to think
anyone is damaged...
Now would we?
I apologize for falling out of line, once again.
I hope you can forgive me for
FEELING
Tears rack my eyes when my brothers were shot down,
And I hope you can forgive me for
FEELING
My stomach empty itself as my poppa took a life
or two.
Because FEELING isn't pleated skirts.
And DAMAGE
Isn't letting a man keep me in line.


In regards to my recent behavior:
I apologize that I have sense, society.
Sense enough not to let you command
How death and loss should
affect me.



I apologize for being broken, so I'll step back into line now
with my navy blue pleated skirt
and my mandatory man
bringing in money as I keep to this house
of deception.
And I'll let my emotions rot me through my core
like I'll leave the "hard" work to the man.
The man that shot my brothers.
The man that gave them life.
I'll shove those feelings down for you
So the world can be perfect again.

Sincerely, I.
---------------
Thanks for reading!
This is inspired by
The Hate U Give, named after Tupac's famous quote
"The Hate U Give Little Infants ***** Everyone", or **** Life.

The father in this poem shot his own babies,
And the daughter was distraught but shoved it down so she could remain normal.
Awful but I hope it speaks to you.

on the Earth, some need a heaven and hell above,
which suits the powered up reigning status quo rulers,
promising that by being just and docile,
one will earn frequent flyer life miles
to a destination ticketed & named,
but not by actual visitation,
a return confirmation, never

some take your self-love as their own idea,
reselling it over and over again back to you
but know that when you sing your own song,
the discoverable truth is we all
get to go to sort of a sanctuary,
especially if you record-keep your flaws,
in order to constantly reinvent yourself
in order to

reach some kind of agreement with yourself

human gravity is hard enough to escape so travel light,
shed those skins over and over again,
each a modest  improvement sequentially,
leave your exited charred speech behind,
knockoff the blackened flaking edges, a discarded cutaway,
this way to transcend phony notion redemption requirements,
redemption
is a toxic emblem, a symbol unrequited and a sucker’s play

I am the spirit of another’s name, who, here to teach,
this being today’s lesson;
how to reach your unique
truth sanctuary,
where the stronghold of who you yet-to-be, can-be awaits,
the reinventing ones, successful, some call poets,
they do not confuse redemption requests
with sanctuary
only provisioned
by yourself,
for yourself

1.
He believes he can have my
Heart and Soul
And cradle them in between his soft fingers.
He asks to let him teach me
how to hold my
Heart and Soul
On my own.
He believes we can handle the
Flames and Mayhem
That come with loving me.

2.
Insomnia is a lonely battle,
reading texts again and again like
Scripture.
Bowing my head, whispering in a demurral tone,
Praying for silence to take the reigns.
But He pings my cell...
He calls and we talk until the sun slivers through.
We chitter till I can no longer hold myself
And I fall asleep.

3.
Isolation.
It's a virtue that all must gain at some point
In their gap of existence.
Isolation creates patience.

But my legs tap-tap-tapping in this
Isolated quarantine
Pull my body into a pace;
My chest is an empty cavern
and it bumps and thumps like a race between ravens.
They soar and swoop and rock my body back
and forth.
They Flutter-Flutter-CATCH their prey.

Anxiety no longer at bay.
Tears... A bitter cliche.

And then you hold me- not a touch.
A word in our world that shines like the day.
The sun of your smile, the pool of your eyes,
The fall leaves in piles, our laughter to the skies.

4 (And Final).
Two wrongs can't make a right,
So why is our damage such a delight?
My panics, manics, freakouts.
Your lockdown, shut down, hideaway-
Let's build our souls, day by day.
One after another and maybe we'll stay
Just as it is, nothing else could say-
He said that she said that we said that they said
We'll lose it, so we laugh it away.

And now, as they say, somewhere far... FAR away, Au revoir ma chérie.
---------------------------------
I love you. And even if we break up, Michael,
you know that I'll always hold a place for you inside my soul.
Thank you for your honesty, your loyalty,
and your help when I hit rock bottom.
You're amazing and now the world knows<3