there is writing on my heart
in red, red ink
& every day I peel just
a little more away
I didn’t stop to see what the
words said - no
I didn’t even think,
I just found a sharpened pencil
& peeled the cursive all away.
this has been here
since birth, I think,
these letters tattooed to
my heart,
& every day I feel the ink
I want to tear the words
apart.
they are
a part of me.
they are synonymous;
the pieces of my soul
I scatter like apple seeds
as I wander
& leave them everywhere I go.
maybe the poetry
is more like
footprints.
I did not mean to leave them there,
a mark of where I’ve been,
but they follow me & I can’t help
leave behind the traces
of who I am.