I never had the chance to ask you
what you meant when you said she was the first person you had ever met
who was more fucked up
than you were.
You showed me.
in your stained cathedral windows
that told a different story than my faith would let me hear
But that’s okay now—
one day I’ll be okay and somedays
I can almost taste it already
Scars drip while times flies and somedays
I’m watching paint dry and somedays
I’m watching my eyes dry already?
I have a rule about reading one of my new poems
until I’ve written another one
Because how can I judge anything while my brain is still colored its own bias?
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and somedays
my eye is dead and decayed already?
Already. and somedays
it’s not and it’s a newborn deer wobbling and blinking
as life flies by on a Harley
ridden by the butchiest motherfucking woman I have ever seen
and she is beautiful and somedays
I know I will grow up to be just like her.