She Runs

She runs
like someone lit the bottom of her soul
her bottle body filling with steam
condensation collecting on her skin
she flies
like she wants to reach the end of the page
before the ink dries
she moved
because she couldn't find room for the hurt

Untitled is a Title

His skin was still warm, like it had been left out in the sun or someone held it close too long

She could make the sun shy

She could make the sun shy (with her smile)
is that called night?
setting in the southern part of now
settled in the South for May, June, and July
Summer stole her

It's Simple

If I were blonde
Straight
not as
unruly
too big to stay in
the lines
too thick for covers
anything,
but KINKY
If I read from a script
instead of
writing my own
If I were Asian
Hispanic
White
Green
Purple
Pink
anything,
but BLACK
If I were dumb
had not been working on
my second
degree
If I didn't question
the things
that I read
and believed in what
I couldn't see
without question
If I were not myself,
he would love me.