write this silence a symphony
a song to sing what words do not tell -
seventeen year old arms cradling her stomach
pregnant with a truth who's name she dare not speak
shhhh

paint this darkness a rainbow
a myriad of colours exploding from camouflage -
seventy two years young a drip in his arm
flushed with a pain and a shame held mute

shhhh
draw this prison cell an exit
a crudely carved hole radiating light
ageless frame electrified, like lighting
flashing white in a brightly lit room
shhhh

name this shame like a first born
unapologetic, lung screaming introductions -
mask dropped to a mess of shattering self on the floor
arms outstretched for a help in hand
speak

Vouloir, c'est pouvoir.

Someone asked if I know you today

Which was odd

I said no

I only once knew you

It’s like that first time you smoke a cigarette with your friends-
a little gross, but you feel so cool.

Or the first time you flash your
I.D. at the bar,
not knowing what to order, but loving the freedom to choose.

When you’re gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turn white,
finally feeling tires touch concrete that isn’t a parking lot.

Decorating that ****** apartment,
paying the first month’s rent-
broke, yet so **** proud.

Holding your diploma in
trembling hands,
a piece of paper most people get,
but this one has your name on it.

That first day everything clicks at work,
a shift so smooth it’s forgotten on the rough days that follow.

That first kiss under the stars,
dopamine shockwaves flooding
every nerve-
you’ll stay up for days on the memory.

Even the devastating realization
that nothing lasts forever,
laying in bed as rain beats
against your window,
music reverberating through a hollow chest.