introduction
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Dear curious stranger,
You wanted to know who I was, where I came from, and what my story is.
My story is written in my hands,
Beautiful patterns of henna sprawled across a rough canvas,
I ask them to take a poem
And read it
Like they were the author,
Or subject, for that matter.
I say drop a lemon-scented pod into a poem
And watch it dissolve,
Hello, my name is Pink.
No, that does not mean that I adhere to your traditional views of what you think I am.
It does not make me gentle.
It does not make me sweet.
Hello, my name is Pink.
Everything just seems really fragile
The sophistication of a thought virus
That erupted in my soul
I am from the sun and sea, fire and earth
I am from forbidden love, heat and passion
I am from broken laws and wounded souls
Constant trips and endless highs
I am from falling snow and raging winds
to start a letter
no one knows,
this generation
has yet learned
to grow
in love,
or simplicity,
to be
of what used
to be,
My name is Renee, consoled by my thoughts, or so I thought.
I take words and create to poems, the power within them stays a mystery.
I write to express, to heal, to relieve.
I must know your name
what secrets lie beneath your face
what tears run thick through your veins
I must know your name
Speak it
Tell it to me slowly
let your fingers
rather than your tongue
(poems go here) Introduction:
Haven't written one in a minute, so I figured it's time to eradicate the glasses
Remove the tree out of my vision and give the world the opposite of what they're askin
