she writes until her fingers
turn black and blue
&she; can't tell the difference
between the ink and the bruises

she spills letters onto
thin white sheets of paper
just like the way
the clouds are scattered in the sky

she uses the letters to make words
in order to complete lovely poetry
exactly like the constellations
the words are stars used for completion

she poured her soul into the paper
immersing herself in vocabulary
so that a piece of her was left behind
every time she would write

she let a part of herself go
only in the hopes
of one day disappearing
completely

(a.b.)