I bleed from the inside out
and I was written on an already disheveled page
outlined in genetic disadvantage
and spelled out in words love never understood.
Someone ripped me apart,
crossed out the sentences drawing me together
and let the pieces wither and soak and dissolve.
You'd think there is nothing left of me-
you'd think the tree that built me is mourning for me now
looking at the empty place where I was
and wishing it's purpose was served further.
But these words can never be unwritten
and this person who bleeds ink from the inside out
cannot run out of what her body pumps full of-
these words are just inspiration for her bodies growth
and this page just encouragement to keep her lungs working.
Some days her brain cannot tell the difference between
love and affection but these words she was written from
tend to make sense of it all.

She looks into his eyes-
sees something made of acrylic paint and movie scenes.
Built from cigarette ash and bible verses.
Birthed on the back of commodity and judgmental day protocol.
But he looks at her like he's trying to show her his teeth are white-
it's as if he has a point to prove and the only way to make it known
is with his lips pressed up against hers as many times as possible.

She has never had faith in words until she heard his voice.
She had never had faith in pages until he filled them with his art.
She never had faith in herself-
until the bible verses he was molded from
gave structure to the idea that it could exist.
She was never one to believe in God or scripture,
but he could paint a canvas in ways she had never seen
and made it easy for her to believe in something bigger.
Green looks good on him-
he wears it inside of his eyes
but he never has to be envious
because hers are filled with blue and gray
but mostly the reflection of his smile-
and it never seems to go away.

Born on different pages
but their story came out the same.
She loved him,
and he loved her just the same
and look at the art they made.