PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I pray the same way the world taught me,

both hands dipped in fire,

lying until I somehow get the truth out,

in questions I think I’ll never get used to.

I speak the same way I always have,

slowing down when the sticks have crossed

or I can’t breathe for swearing on everything I see,

like how I think you can’t be held for too long.

I shatter the same way the sun taught me,

painful as diving below the earth

just as the magic starts to happen,

wanting so much to stay

that I leave streaks of my setting behind on your skyline.

I don’t often believe where I come from,

to make me believe in something

you have to push it in my face

or mix it like a scent

into the saltwater I rub into my skin every night.