The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

Is it really self-confidence
if it only emerges sometimes?

to love yourself is an art-
so i let nameless men sketch
their fantasies along my hips
to prove that i am too,
                                                a masterpiece.

**** in an antique wooden frame
that hangs by my throat
gagging on the subject of
                                                 love.

Some people are just one word
Others a few more
Even a few that are many
For you
There are no words
Because you’re an experience
Just as one can’t explain
What it’s like to lie in the sun
To someone who’s never seen the sun
I can’t tell the world
Why I love you