murdered lips
should have spoke
before secrets conspired
dark blue poisons
around the heart white face
that shocked the sky
with her beauty.
old times
spent with trade
and barter.
you know
the college never talked about death
or why the rich could murder the poor
or how the poor put others in the earth
with twists of blades.
i got this debris in my pocket
that says love
let us spend our life hiding
in pink fabric and red thread
winding around our arms
like old projects
instead of sliding into prisons of fear
where we got no ideas
except for a life of cold stone.
i got this fear
that maybe people aren't evil
but ignorant
which is harder to take in
because naivety and innocence
in wretchedness
cannot be met with recourse or justice.
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