Between the lines
of now and then,
you’re drawing me
with ink and pen.
Every ridge
and every curve
you’re carving out
what I deserve.
Tangled veins
and knotted hair,
a thunderstorm
of senseless care.
Between the breaths
of God and man-
You’re writing me
just as I am.
With fractured bones
and black-hole eyes,
painted purple,
ringed with lies.
All I am
is what you see
and what you make
is all I’ll be.
