With light strokes of my pen,
I will draw us racing towards an unknown
side by side
not knowing when or how to intersect.
Stripes across the page exist over a name
I've held so close to my heart
but abstained from using on my lips
where silence reigns.
Between lines, poetry lay burning
ashes of stories I stayed awake at night recounting
a rejected part of my humanity
that I cannot forget
that I will never forget.
October has left me with blood on my hands,
and wilted flowers in my hair
but I am a wound trying to heal
the stripes on my skin mark growth
life will emerge in the face of cold winter air
life will radiate like northern lights
gleaming like the energy of all souls combined
against a wall of star encrusted darkness.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
With light strokes of my pen,
I will draw us racing towards an unknown
side by side
not knowing when or how to intersect.
Stripes across the page exist over a name
I've held so close to my heart
but abstained from using on my lips
where silence reigns.
Between lines, poetry lay burning
ashes of stories I stayed awake at night recounting
a rejected part of my humanity
that I cannot forget
that I will never forget.
October has left me with blood on my hands,
and wilted flowers in my hair
but I am a wound trying to heal
the stripes on my skin mark growth
life will emerge in the face of cold winter air
life will radiate like northern lights
gleaming like the energy of all souls combined
against a wall of star encrusted darkness.
