Black Dahlias

The girl with the bright, friendly eyes

And the smile that masked her tears with a twinge of shyness

Could not use brushes or pencils

To paint her fears as her father and grandmother could.

The longing to connect faded

As the years passed by and with sweet bubblegum lyrics

She poured air in to fill the void

But the emission of the fragrant breaths would soon end

The false sense of purpose fulfilled.

So one day she opened a notebook and spoke truth with

Swipes of graphite and metaphors.

She called her thoughts to sit on lines covering paper.

She used black dahlias to hide

The truth from eyes that could not comprehend expression

In ways that were not publicly

Displayed. I write because my voice is not loud enough

To share my thoughts through megaphones

Or microphones. My feet lack skill and genes left one choice.

I write so that my mask can rise

As my essence is displayed for the world’s viewing

As the swipe of a black marker

Watered down shows the entirety of a rainbow.


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