giving. (a poem for artists with soft skin)

It musta been mighty unbearable
ta be stretched so unevenly
skins breakin’ an’ comin’ back
always regeneratin’
so rapidly dat blood learns not ta spill.

Your blood
still curtious
even in de process of lettin’

YoU
bore a cross
a statement of love
An’ there
at de mouth of Golgotha
you went inward

became obsessed wid movings an’vibrations
inside personal galaxies
it was there that direction was found

You
lay
bare.
reaching inward cause no where was safe.

Bare.
a carcass devoured, eaten, an’ used by folk wid imaginations no bigger than dere half understandings of who you were.
Dey was hungry at de onset.

You gave them utopias too quickly
Dey gorged, became gluttonous
leavin’ you raw wid dried ambition.
an’ unsided.

De real pity bein’ dat it wasn’t reciprocal.
Dey could never fully hold you.

only flowers, sun, teeth, an’ ginger could.

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