ColoursĀ 

Reeling me into your haunting spirits

You are not the man who I await 
You are not my lover

I’m not yours to keep
Remember the colors of my tainted face?

You put them there yesterday 

You think it was a brand on display? 

I’m not yours to claim 
Magnifying your pain like it matters

To this edge of my mind

You are not my Muse

I’m refuse to write your hate
These walls are the expert witness

In the trial of our lives

You are not my owner 

I’m not a contract you negotiated 
This night will not be your ally 

Not while I walk out to the floor lights

You won’t stand on the podium

I won’t be your trophy

Mother

You taught me silence

How to step out of battles 

Without victory

For you saw no other way 

Taught me that life 

Can only be lived in a box

And love 

Can exist without a touch

Me – for all my death and darkness – 

Was showered with gifts and cards

But no poetry was read in the house

For minds aren’t meant to be understood 

Mothers and daughters come in shapes

In the shape of a tear

Or the unforgiving page of a diary

Does your fear and my longing have a shape?

What did she teach you?

The reality of womanhood?

The lack of wings?

Or the desperation of an ambition?

Did you laugh as a child?

Have friends you’d fly for? 

A Sister you’d die for?

Were you lonely in your mind? 

Was your mother as unhappy as mine?