Writing

I’m standing there, minding my own,
 Unarmed, no threat, just skin and bone.
 But he sees me, and I’m already guilty,
 Not for what I’ve done, but for how I look, for where I’ve been, for the color of my skin.

If only it was because  

you were fifteen  

and I was thirteen  

but it wasn’t.  

Not really.  

The solidity of the darkness

The ever-cascading waters

Sharp and dangerous, altogether hardly enticing

Await me wherever I wander within my mind.

I catch a glimpse. 

from afar, 

the shine of his silky hair in the golden sunlight

his expression unreadable, 

as if he's pondering something he'd never tell a soul. 

You put on your glassy mask

So I'll only see

The version of yourself

You contrived for me. 

You slip on your suffocating shoes

Kathy watched out her window as Samuel left his apartment, 

spit his gum on the ground

and lit his cigarette. 

the same as yesterday. 

the same as every day.