Jen Juice

When I tell you I want to paint a picture you should listen
Colors explicit and functioned and calling
Like the woman shining through my silken skin
Immortalized in a child crying found her way
Somehow extended
Shaken, emaciated and lucid reactions
In a milk-shaken thread
Absence of logic and pondering the girl that stood
And watched every single wicked explosion exploding
In my face
Back of the door and blood on the embrace
Running my fingers through my freshly laced hair with ribbon
My daughter compliments my spawn
The daughter of my thoughts
Listen to me call