Amongst Evergreens OCPoetry

I do, I make, I create from an unseasoned wealth of ideas--

only to be stunted by the budding lines in my face:

the fresh floral pattern, blooming, but out of style.

Like the one my mother threw over dressing room doors

during fall back-to-school shopping trips.

"No, mom, I won't try this on!"

So it was forced upon me.

And then there's the tether tied to my sexuality.

Rooted at my core, released and spread

through swaying hips and fingertips.

I send my rosy petals into a placid

sky, only to be beaten down by gravity.

Falling from fading smiles and unknowing glances.

Body planted in front of the mirror, cheap crayons in hand,

I mark the empty spaces, confined within the lines,

as all of my elders taught me.

I draw this autumn scenery, somehow instinctively.

Maybe it'll make the refrigerator

if it's good enough for Daddy.

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Submitted February 13, 2015 at 03:41AM by sluttttt http://ift.tt/1A1wvj7 OCPoetry