Orchestrated fire at the hem of my slip
This burning is masterpiece
Savage and sonnet in its soot-
Don't touch me because I'll linger in your bones
They will smell me all over you
My bitter and sweet becoming ghost on your lips
Haunting your attempts at relationships
Giving other women faults that look like me
Why you make altar of my memory?
Couldn't even praise-love me when my mouth and spirit held you
Ain't you contradiction and hypocritical?
Had to feel the frost to appreciate the fire
Had to walk to appreciate how I lifted you
how I taught you flight in a world heavy with gravity
Blood all on the concrete calling and claiming new bodies
But you mistreated the shelter and sky in me
Now you out there,
cold world at yo neck
Yearning for savage,
But my slip don't even fit you any more
"I am a LIFE REPORTER, but for short, you can simply call me a poet."