An ivory mess


Somewhere through a crippling paradox

arises a memoir,

a rainbow

someone waited their eternity to look at

a voice someone so dearly wished to hear, 

and with the ripples of her own misery.

There she is,

on a moony night,

startled, and in rue, 

shaken and doubtful, 

cursing those skin of color,

while the stars in the dark

shimmer in awe of her beauty. 


The cappuccino cup

broken on the rim, 

the coffee tastes of dissonance--- 

a life unaffordable

and with every sip 

there it is!

The realization

that even a coffee cup is too much. 

staples and wood, 

a combination of cards pasted

and wasted

so easily, so differently, 

and while the foam builds in the canvas,

there lies the identity of her life.

She’s just a girl who likes black coffee. 


She paints the coffee stains,

and unbothered, unethical she stands, 

in desperation, 

fixing the epitome of a human, 

the perfumes smelling of lavender, 

the color purple swaying its way to her.

Empty vows and not-so-delicate brows---

a smile she gives with those foldings 

of her skin, the padded notebooks, 

and her unmatched football team, 

but oh my! the wooden brush she loves,

and stares everyday. 

She’s just a window shopper,

a frame-queen dancing her own way. 

The collection of old books

revealing the breaths of her laughter, 

and the chants of an enigma she is. 

Millions of tabs on the laptop screen, 

the thousands of mouse-clicks. 

Even with her so tiring lashes, 

through the beams of epiphany,

she swings in the hopes

and in the fields, 

the perfect shade, the perfect shape, 

and in the windy afternoon 

as her hair sways, 

a little of her smiles every moment. 


A belittle narrative of a human she is, 

broken and made inherently dark, 

just a little life of a nuisance in the park 

where the sun sets under the knees of see-saws.

Trimming her hair in the dimming light, 

red ends and the maroon on her nails, 

the crippling flow of moments

on a day of empty, 

feeling the lies and filling her time, 

She wakes up everyday, 

living the paradox she is. 

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