Give Me The Moon

She was made entirely of a sweetness bordering on tears.

I come, blood on blood, like the sea, wave on wave. I have a soul the color of poppies.

Repeat after me: I am the woman of my own dreams. I require no validation. My wish is my command. My life is my own. I build it. My voice is my own. I use it. I am relentless in my dedication to trusting myself. I am insatiable in my thirst for the extraordinary, and I do not settle for the mediocre. I Live Without Dead Time.

I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow.

Flowers freshly cut and wrapped in newspaper, / that’s how I want to rest, my dreams / like white petals absorbing ink.

Why Are Your Poems So Dark?

She is so young and at the same time like a dead person. She knows this.