Poet13's Blog

There’s no heat in your fire you’re like a painted flame
pasteurized jazz making music safe for white people
assuming correct postures feeling nothing
missing mindfulness in the moment.

I draw a deep breath arrest the impulse to please
I’m too eager for your approval you’re too willing to withhold
this repetitive cycle builds frustration
never mind.

The wounds I inflict with the weapons I wield
I am angry at myself
I willed myself to forget
red is your favorite color.

When I saw scarlet lines of ruby beads welling from slit skin
it all came back
but I was no longer lame
I could walk away.