Don’t strive to be perfect, strive to be excellent
“
That is hard to answer I have so many:
She tattooed love in a foreign tongue
On her left wrist—
Just so others would ask what it meant.
She sank her teeth into its meaning,
hoping one day the brand would bleed
Its definition upon her skin.
Lingering there, a forgotten kiss.
Lip-stick stained collars,
Little bones wired are ready,
Folded like patterned paper.
origami hearts—
Sprinkled every which way.
Sharing herself fully with no one,
She made sure to leave her mark,
On every heart that beat her way.