can i tell you a secret?
some days, when the sky is its darkest hue
and the clouds are a light gray-blue
i write poetry.
it's all about you.

the sky blushed black,
freckled stars dotting her inky cheeks.

the words died before they could leave my lips
but their corpses dance on my tongue

She twirls in a lovely floral dress
with a ponytail and a striking smile
as mister sun kisses her cheeks.

Coral reefs destroyed
cactus in the deep blue sea
Mariana dredged

Tepid water
between
my toes,
I know
life.

Why-
When we look at objects
Like cars
Do we call them
“She”

Why are women always the object of desire
And still the center of so much abuse?

Perhaps we are abused because we don’t run as smooth or as silently as a car.