You are white like a bone;
And also an eggshell.
You write in permanent marker,
But your letters make you cry.
You are a key that opens anything
But crumbles with rust and time.
And you sing in the shower
But when someone catches you,
You shut up silent, mouth sewn closed.
You come in tides like the ocean,
But you are scared of the sea,
Even though you are a wave always crashing into me.
You are a bone and an eggshell;
white ambiguity, wrapped into one.