xvii. I AM THE POET
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i am the poet
the blood that runs through my veins is red ink. my heart beats to the sound of words. when i'm wounded, the red ink runs out of my veins and onto my paper skin.
i am the poet
the tears that flow from my eyes are made of blue ink. it stains my cheeks and is brushed over the back of my hands as i wipe my eyes. my irises are coloured in with blue pen. i see the world through a blue tint.
i am the poet. . .
hear me roar.
YOU ARE READING
celestial
Poetry"positioned in or relating to the sky, or outer space" because everyone I love, loved, and will ever love does, has, and will fascinate me much like the stars in the sky do.
