My inner child,
barefoot in a burning room,
clutches a paper heart
no one ever tried to hold.

Every time I look at my reflection
I never cease to see my perfection

I try to not feel my vain feelings
Pray to God on my knees,kneeling

Every man I so love
Has said that I am truly above

But in my own mind if you look and see
I think I am truly ugly,ugly as can be!

To love, is to wait , to feel , to notice , to hear, to care without expecting to be loved too.

pitter patter rain paints bob ross
patterns on the pavement
heavy clouds ask gravel paths
in broad strokes what its name meant

my name is gently nestled in tread
of tire, boot, and tooth
travelling down the pallet of
a city past its youth

i’m texture in your travels,
trodden static underfoot,
i’m to and from and back and forth
and won’t ever stay put