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