22.6.15

i am to be, just a mixture

my blue ink mixed with
this red
platter which your dagger
sits upon.
and where does my heart keep its
beating, at which speed to your words
does it dance to.
and how many nights
do i remind you of.

melancholy skies
i sleep with.
i used to write him love letters,
but they take too much of
space. and these pen marks
stain too
permanently.

all that keeps me is
my portrait of youth.
a once happy
bus ride,
a friend to braid my hair,
and a strangers smile as
i am human, not to
eat for pleasure.