Let me tell you something.

You said, ‘ You should write poetry, I think you’d be good at it.’

Did you know then?
What it means to be Black blood and Red ink?

Let me tell you something ;
Poetry is not rhyme scheme, it is harsh and cruel and truth.
It will always taste like blood.

Did you know then,
What slit veins on paper are?

Let me tell you something ;
We(poets) are all together and all alone and all bloodshot eyes and unshed tears and teeth and fire and broken, broken, broken.

My dear, if I’d never written those first words, I never would’ve known,
But it’s been a lifetime since you showed me this lifeline, and so

Let me tell you something;

It hurts to become.

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