[And they will say the dark]

And they will say the dark
of your skin will char my lips
and that it doesn’t make sense
for me to say I don’t understand
where the color lives in voices

or why the stars would
execute themselves in front
of the moon of a moving
world, when we know the light
takes too long to reach us

yet I believe your world
is more lyrical than mine,
like it’s something
I would still care about
if you didn’t show me a photo

and if I filled the holes
of their drunken eyes
with gray, maybe they
would believe it


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