It was dead

and they were soft.

I plucked them.

And in-between my thumb

and pointer it felt like

the thinnest, most delicate

sheep’s ear.

As I let it go it glided

in the wind,

a wing without its body

still able to fly.


You told me

I was like

hot honey


down your

throat, you

said my pain

had the power

to lock eyes

and you told

me I possessed

a sickly


And now as I

pour my hot

honey down the

throats of others

I’m amazed that

a sweetness

could have brewed

inside of me,

and even if it

is wrapped in

pain or is sickly,


it is mine.

hey guys

my art didn’t get accepted in my schools juried art show. I feel bummed. I spent a lot of time on my painting. BUT its ok. I have to accept that not everyone will like my work. BUT i also feel sad. 😦 i don’t know what else to share, i just wanted to tell someone. Im going to try to not let this make me feel bad about my art. I know that my art is valid.