she would write words
upon her hand on a whim,

words like
burn, drown, essence, crescent,
jingle, irony, scheme,
and i did not understand why.

when she would get
frustrated, and that line
would come between her brow,
she would begin to touch her face,
as she always did

and the ink would smudge
and smear and color her cheeks,
eyes, nose, a dark, deep, blue

and i still did not understand why,
until one time i asked her,
"why do you write on yourself?"

and she replied,
pen in hand,
"i wish to be a poem."