micropoem

Simulacrum

for papa I guess this is why I never really miss you even at a distance we are so alike.

Trying to take refuge in a body waring itself to live with a mind getting too comfortable with death your tongue clutching onto survival.

Sitting in empty thinking how I just want to be enough for you, a place to call whole.

Stop celebrating holidays that aren’t a part of your culture. You’ll ruin the real essence of the tradition.

When it is time I will be done with all I have to say in this world. All you will have of me is the writings I left behind.

Creating your art through the lens of others is sabotage of the self.

Come love, and let this journey of o u r love take flight so even the gods could envy us.

How can you not love the melanin the gods of Earth have blessed me with? Even the sun was jealous it couldn’t pierce through me.

In between your legs like a bee sucking nectar from a flowers fruit.

Snow covered mountains bleeding rose petals holding you by its thorns why does your love hurt?

I don’t wish to mold you into a poem, it is time to move on.