Geri

My hands are adorned 
by gloves constructed 
from the warmth of life itself.  

The California Sun 
of asphalt mirages 
beating down and 
bronzing skin and 

I have learned what it means to be lonely. 

Staring at my phone screen,
letters all in blue, 
silently begging for a reply. 

Seeing a group of Shiny Happy People 

(Warning the story gets a lttle dark and has a sensative topic. I hope I portrayed it well and respectably)

(this is bunch of word barf that I came up with but i wanted to post something:) 



We make small talk and strange conversation 
in the glow of the subway station. 

When did 
my greedy paws 
start feeding my brother and sister? 

When did 
my elders fables 
revamp from boring to brilliant? 

When did 
I stop wailing to the world 

So this is your life now? 

Like a pill? Hard to take and even harder to swallow? 

Sharp like a blade and quick to draw blood? 

Blood red like your harsh lipstick that burns in the light?