You moved in like an exotic species
with high heel roots that just couldn’t
take to the concrete soil and
everything felt foreign as your
fingers dragged against buildings’
windows in a curlicue SOS

You were a misplaced piece in the
wrong puzzle box yet you still tried
to make your corners fit amongst
the scenery. You drifted from street to street
like an extra in a movie trying to find
your own spotlight

Your construction-paper elbows rested
on your bruised knees as the dusty
wind married your stray hairs to your
chapsticked lips – and beneath your
feet was a child’s chalk drawing with the word
“believe”

The pastel pinks and blues and smiling
stick caricatures were captured by
your wide eyes that dripped their
appreciation in two slow lines

The picture burned itself in your mind
and tugged your lips upwards as you
decided you wanted to thrive, to
truly feel alive, and to build
your own puzzle around your sides