Silhouette.

 

I have refused to take the form of

All the chalked outline of my father’s broken accent.

Substitute (h) with (aw)—confuse me, aw do you do this

With so much ease?

I contour my weightlessness in pronouncing all the heavy

Things my colonizers have tagged stressful and I still do not

Believe in a profile where (Englishman) is the closest

We’d ever come to glory/ forgive my insecurities, God/

Forgive the form I have decided to duplicate/ most importantly,

Forgive my senselessness in reminding you my shape is to remain

In your likeness.

In the middle of the intersection of rain and beauty,

There is a curve between the skies and I want to dance all

My bones to its likeness.

I have refused light so I always have someone by my side/

So my shadow has someone to hold unto, not me: (I’m a piece of

Disappearance etched into existence by thoughts of being lonely)

So I dine with all the people that tag my configuration of lost as purpose —

I love them hard enough to become tender and more lonely —I must stay woke,

I must not forget the purpose.

It’s only my existence in the wrong man’s body that delineate’s the  purpose of lost:

To be lost is to be 100% certain that something or someone is searching for you.

Dear Body//light//brightness of a thousand firefly-petal// your amorphousness is

Enough testament that beauty comes in different forms —formlessness is one,

Your regards towards the shapeless accent you have grown to mole

On your skin is another & remember, form is introduced,

When the body has lost its original purpose.