my own storm

the night was pregnant with still air
as though waiting to give birth
to a revelation

she tried to scribble some words, but
somehow the letters refused
to hold one another’s hands

so she put down her pen,
and while staring at the sky,
tell him to stop painting me pretty
I will not compete with raindrops
for I have my own storm
to keep me alive inside


written for maypoeticwings 21/31, “paint me pretty”

maypoeticwings is a Twitter poetry challenge hosted by @PoetessBecca and @BelezaAngel

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved


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