I created a finger-painted world that revolves around us.
After every 10th orbit our hearts exchange a tune
a colorful melody with power
to overflow more than ears.
A single hum, coating every dimension.
A frequency etched on every molecule we ever grew to be.
How considerate of the universe to make this all
deliberate or maybe it was just the wind?
Though I know the earth has rolled its way around the sun for eons.
long enough to witness every version of me, loving you.
For this kind of love could never be built
in just a single lifetime.

I don’t express with full eyes anymore.
Still they might tell you more than words can.
I speak in warnings.
In glances.
In dreams I forget halfway through just to prove I didn’t make them up.
Sometimes I laugh so my spirit doesn’t leak through my mouth.
Other times I cry cause I know l’ve already seen this part before.
And if I gotta teach somebody how to love me again,
I’m folding the lesson up into an altar and burning it slow with all my favorite oils.
Cause I’m tired.
Tired but sacred.
Tired but still decoding the air when it moves too different.
Tired but still saying ‘thank you’ to the things that leave before they rot.

I suffer from the chronic consequences of elongating my own obstinacy.
Every single coordinated action rises from fear
So my heart can drive in the name of patience.

When an equivocal mind is fed ambivalence off silver spoons,
the inevitable death from starvation will arrive.
For I will never taste the conclusions
of my own vulgarization.
Ambiguity is no nourishment to satisfy my soul;
Though being consumed is quite finger-licking.

I’m chewing on my own becoming.

Will I have the right to be fastidious about
my growth?
If dipping myself in gold would be more
palatable to the one’s surrounding the table
only I sit upon?
Another round of silver contemplation and napkins please.

Desire has its fingers in every single fold of my being.
Yearning for the relief of connection
that brings me down to my knees
in front of my own femininity; the temple of my womanhood.

War is over.
The men can come home to their wives.
Who held their breath,
counting the hours like prayers
awaiting their arrival.

I want a love I’ve waited lifetimes for.
A love that stretches thick among the stars.
I want to touch every crooked fold in your being
imprint a sliver of my light on your darkness.
You hold your heater in my defense.
ready to black the sky on those who attempt to dim my light.

I’m built to consume, to ravage.
It’s in my destiny to be reborn by something delicate as a kiss.
Shall I always want more?
Like the kidnapping of my heart

As if, it was never mine.

I am an assertive being.
destructive.
mortal.
Extremely impulsive with frenzied thoughts.
I am a woman with affection that only exists
inside of my bones.
lethal.
This affection confused as violence.
frenetic.
I do not express it with lip stains on envelopes or heart shaped doodles on letters.
It’s a demonstration of my eyes piercing into yours.
Willingly suffocating in the thought of you.
Repeatedly carving your existence in my head.
This planet will come for me and continue to spin
but here he is, a mosaic of my memory.
A love that tears me to shreds.
strips me bare.
I am in my purest form when I’m with you.

There’s enough language inside of my mouth to be understood.
I unhinge my jaw
my tongue rolls out
you can see the words sewn into my muscular tissue.
sentences lodged deep into my pharynx.
I clean my act, flash my cheekbones.
So there’s enough language inside of my body
to create the thought in your mind that
“I’m okay.”
Pain masked in articulation.
The lack to find all the points in communication.
The curse of comprehension.
All while sitting with what doesn’t exist outside of the novel continuously writing in my head.
There’s enough language inside of the world
to prove that no word can describe
my intelligence of my own being;
with coexisting with people who become illiterate
to the dictations of my mind.