Lining up to shoot quivering words
At my heart
To watch which ones stick.
Those angry words
Slip through the patchwork armor
That I built with small hands and hardened memories
The door from a boarded up store where a homeless man yelled at me.
The glittering granite of my kitchen table where
My father’s harsh voice tares tears from my eyes.
The cracked clay pot of an angry woman calling me a stupid girl.
Vulnerable, red, beating,
The knife-like words puncture the silky skin
And sink into the soft underbelly of my soul
Blossoms of poison
Unfurling with every beat
Red to black
Red to black.
We are Close, You and I
We are close, you and I
We are authentic, real
Full of a passion
That fills our hearts
And overflows into our veins
A fiery burning
With our red hot veins
The twisting lines
Years of desperation and love
Hope and chaos
Millions of lives etched within our hearts
We are part of those who came before us
We are part of those who will come after
We are one of many
And completely ourselves