SHOWERS

A good clean rain
shampoos the soul.
Down into my face and hair
it weighs my outer shields in,
makes my outsides glow with caution's light,
I carry more weight, walking, trying to
find my door to my home.

Things are not gray they are scrubbed
An apple ready to be bitten into, it shines
And thats how I feel like life today.
Like walking in the rain.

6 years wasted 10 lifetimes sacrificed, 10 years...

6 years wasted,

10 lifetimes female outer genital cutting
and pre teen urges for a labial circumcision, (shh baby they don't know IT, yet.)

6 years wasted believing you wanted this shape,
thin hips, high cheek bones, red lips and curly hair, nay,
a 6 inch dick to match it
and a par of stylish shoes.
MAry Jane black, with heels m female entitiety
Shall no pull off voluntarily.

6 years wasted

and 10 lifetimes and dam, I am not a Saint,
I have not gone back to sinning yet,
but have low ezpectations
for the next 6 years, hell, even I can go fuck myself

draft 1.

What’s love?

When you catch yourself smiling at a picture?

When your heart breaks over and over again?

Maybe—from a far distance,
or in close proximity?

Is it when you finish your first love poem?

Or discover your faith in someone who holds you tight,
instead of from a mirrored creed?

What’s love?

Any.
Way