My poem was inspired by my mentee’s poem—a representation of Generation F. A fiery sense of self—an ability to look at the uncertain and scarier sides of life unabashedly and with grace.
There is death in every color
I proposed in a vitrine
It was faded purple and black
I proposed to, you
Do you remember?
There are little lies scattered in a death
Quiet and precise
My heart renders itself useless
and you accept
You put a tiny rose on my finger
and kiss it gently
I want you to bow to me and say
you’ll Encase me in gold
When I return from my peril
But you don’t and I’m quiet
Thinking my spaceship solitude
The rose has left a mark; a sketch of itself
And a few faint scars
Quiet, red
But you are a child’s laughter in an office room
And I am learning to grow a new limb
I am learning to denounce my color
And learning rather, to live