i am not an inbetweener
not a spaceholder
not a coma in your sentence
I will not hold the back of your bike
Chasing you down the street
Afraid you will wipe out
Scraping your knees on life
I deserve to be an abstract metaphor
Floating under a tree
Sun setting on my glistening shoulders
You should have to think before you speak
To me
Of me
For me
I will not be a flashlight
Or a traffic light
will not be your morse code
I am cursive- calligraphy-poetry on the leaves
Not messages on the inside of the bathroom stall
(of Chauncey’s, Stubbies or The Top)
Written for everyone
Never taken to heart
I will not harden my soul to put up with you
I will remain squishy forever
Powerfully squishy, silky liquidly wonderful
Riddles will drip from my tongue like ink
If you don’t understand it
I am not meant for you
Drowned and dripping
White wine princess
My dresses will flow out of your life
With a quickness
And you will be stuck
Dreaming about the taste and texture of my skin