Hello love.
I hope this finds you at a good time. 
I hope the space you take up in my chest 
Is covered in cherry blossoms 
And all the love you were never given.
I promise this won’t take long.

The place you now rest in my ribcage,
woven together with vines and fauna,
is my favorite place to find my strength.
I hope you know, the day I lost you,
the words stuck in the back of my throat  
unraveled so completely  
that I am still spewing their music. 
I hope that one day I can show you,
we are no longer the only ones who listen.

I hope somewhere along the way  
The wind grew tender as I changed. 
I used to fight with the spray of cold.
my callouses have come back  
but I stopped clenching my fists.
You didn’t ask me to, but I soften anyway.

I have never stopped searching
For the ones that would love you
for every flower petal and shard of tree bark
that you has ever brushed your fingertips
After all you made me, it is the least I can do.
You survived everything you said you couldn’t 
Traded your sanity for a chance at mine, 
and the only predictability you’d ever known 
to use as rash kindling for a wild inferno
that is now blazing its way up from my belly.

I miss you more than I could say.
When my chest cannot capture air,
and this fire in my stomach stutters in place,
when I wonder how long it would take
for the dirt smudged on my bruised cheeks
to reclaim my lifeless vessel,
I feel your heartbeat in my chest.
I feel you and I know
that you are proud
of this wildfire and wind I have become.

Style score: 100%

I am afraid that every poem in my bones 
will become a sickle cell disease 
I cannot cure. 
An ocean of passion and fervency
I’ll keep clotted in my veins.
The kindest protest of this gift
would be if it kills me. 

I am afraid that every drop of ink I pour from my veins,
every page I dirty with my vengeful words 
and every warm honeysuckle string
I sow these sentences with 
will be a drug I fall apart for.

I am afraid that in leaving this pen on the table
I am abandoning my sword and shield.
surrendering my safety, my purpose,
to be conventionally put together
when I was born to be Starfire.
Cosmically unstable, prismatic incarnate. 

but when I speak,
you tell me I am so potent and forceful, 
that it hurts the shell of your ears. 
You spit in my face,
try to rebuild this box to put me in,
as if the blueprints on the floor
aren’t proof of the one since incinerated.  

I am made of dead stars and every shred of love that has come before me
and you expect me to be comprehensible?
I speak with my chest 
because it took tending to every seed
left rotting in my flesh
to erupt with these words
you now lick off my fingertips.

I am terrified that one day
these shadows will consume me.
And I will drown choking on my own blood,
and this star will snuff itself out,
and I will have no voice left to scream with,
and it will all be my fault.
and it will have been preventable. 
if I had just bled out these pages. 

So no.
I do not care that my presence
takes up so much space
that you are suffocating.
I do not care if my voice is so loud you go deaf
or that I am the last thing you ever hear.
I do not care if these pages go nowhere
and I am left with nothing but the physical 
remnants of myself
no I do not care if it is never enough.
It will never be enough.
to scare me away from this.  

(100% style score)