two honey bees scribble
across Rupi’s milk
her tragic black paperback
blooms
on a blank kitchenette
empty plastic cup
waiting for a purpose
I tell it
“go”
but who am I to
say anything
Rupi says it all
if her grace has been missed
you should find it
gather up her past
in her shadow
and twist it
into purple origami
for me to dry
each drop
that falls because
of ways men
have touched her
Awesome!
❤ Thank you!!
These words evocate a poignant yet cathartic sensation. Very glad to have come across your work.
“Who am I to say…?”
You are the purple origami.
❤ ❤ thank you
Welcome, Maggie ❤