she in verse 1
Oct 16, 2020
she drifts passed
from out of range
out of peripheral
in a dynamic rage
fluid
heating ice to flame
tip-pointing chill
to dramatic gaze
catapulting from impulsive
into pragmatic days
disturbed and or delighted
by critic and or praise
always moving forward
toward
even as there is change
in which way
she faces
it day by day.
the stroke of her outline
painted by the shadow’s rays
her form further defined
etched with ink
line stuck on page
yet her soft skin still coats
like a thick haze
it’s early morning time
and still she lays
gentle breaths escape
her warm lips
swollen from sleep
puckered with dreams
little sounds without say
until mumbles scrape through her teeth
“I choose me”
“I love me”
