"Soul Sisters"

You are so filled with pain and strength
it seeps out of fallen lashes
and spread thighs.
Broken nails
smell like honey
and the burnt ash knocked off
of discarded cigarettes.

I can almost see
strands of rust-hair fall
across worn pages. Holes,
words torn from lines
of a poets story.
Worn out knobs of rubber
erasing what should not,
can not
be said.

Fingers on temples,
lips pursed,
pens scrawl and scratch
and recite.

Pages smell of cigarettes
and I open to the
center-page
and inhale.
Breathe.
Your words smell
of smoke and strength,
like time lost in alleys,
wondering what you’ve done
what to do now.
Your words smell
of kryptonite and kindness.
Like a raw soul
on display.

You are my soul sister,
and I think
I can now understand
how brilliantly
you soar.