no greater need than to
see that smile wiped off that
pretty face… i concede to
these emotions, these feelings
that crawl up my throat and
demand to be let out… i reform
to be better, do better through you. you will be my canvas;
your pain the paint, the horror
stamped on your face, my muse… i promise to see the world from your perspective, i promise to see past the skin,
the teeth, those text messages never answered… but you have
to meet me in the middle, you need to fight; im in armor before you, will you choose the truth
or will you let our
newfound love wither and die on my front porch?
Mecca-Amirah Jackson 