blue inked pens
stain tear-soaked hands
that write stories
for the whole world
to see
but
their own.

I peeled open my ribs like
a citrus rind under tired thumbs—
lazily and rough.
No fires began,
no stars collapsed—
just silence,
and the wet,
and honest sound
of my own beating heart.

It didn't scream,
or stop.
It just
continued,
as if it didn't notice
how I split myself open,
just to hear
it say--
nothing new.

Crow
high is the crow
near the stars
and free of scars

flesh and feathers
of different shades
bruised
purple, blue, pink
and wings
of black and green

she is cursed, they say
to live where the colors fade
dull grays, blacks, and whites
so,

late at night,
above the stars,
she clips her wings
and says goodbye

now,

she keeps her skin--
even more bruised and broken--
hidden beneath
the deep black of her wings

hidden,
but bright
like the stars
that shine high
at night.

Trace blue rivers that run
through the caves
beneath soft
raw ground

tear sweet
rotten lines--
scars
in rich
brown

feel angry, hot magma
red
cascading
d
  o
    w
      n

The Earth will tremble
and
b  r  e  a  k
still
Do not hesitate
remember why

The ground is raw
from your own
hungry greed

it bears the sweet lines
of rotten honey
bees

and cleans the mess
of your angry
hot red

You took me in your hands
so soft
so sweet
yet your eyes of greed
were warnings I couldn't see
and so when you said three words to me
I had no choice but to believe
so I let you peel back my skin
gentle at first
then hungry
for what you saw within
was so soft
so sweet
that your greed turned from a want
to a need
and as you indulged on my being
I pleaded for an end
you did not listen
and you lied yet again
and yet again I believed
until all that was left of me
was guts and blood
and as I watched you pick me from your teeth
all I could do was hope
that your stomach burned with my bittersweet memory

everything and
nothing
all at once

that is what i am

maya and langston,
acevedo and woodson
all in one head

the mississippi heat
and minnesota snow
flow through my blue
hot hands

stars in the sky and
too cloudy nights

akeelma in chains
and maleeka in the 7th
grade

i am just enough
to be nothing at all

i am a proud statement
a shy whisper
contadictory
yet true

i am everything in this world
and nothing in the next

that
is what i am