I’m no damsel, neither am I helpless

You always wanted conversation to explain
all the solitudes I dressed myself with
all the wanderings imbedded in my bones,
but the words found no mold you would accept
because you never understood that the sky
can sometimes be empty and still give flight
to featherless things.
I tried to tell you that black is the only color I know
how to embrace with any kind of explanation,
that touching me meant changing those ears to eyes
when ink is slithering from beneath my fingernails
staining everything I dare to touch.
I can’t bleed out any more apologies.
Not to you, not to me, not to them.
Paper cuts aren’t conducive to hurricanes
or waterfalls
or square footage
too small to house my imaginings.
I’ve never thought to decorate my finish line
with waves counted
with seconds minutes hours sacrificed
for breath that never promised a future.
Inadequacy marooned me between two land masses
where I’m tossed side-ways
too many reflections rage above me
and sail boats drag me just close enough
by its tether to my thoughts,
yet never close enough to swallow it down,
drink it up
because I’ve been dying of thirst in a river of questions.
The sun has only ever loved the moon from afar.
Orion’s been my constant companion,
he’s collected all my overspent tries
and pinned them to his belt to shine.
There are too many nights that you miss
my hands when you are talking romance.
This poem is my best attempt at talking,
letters filled with all the times I laid waste
to stars long past dead.
This castle isn’t my prison,
These stones walls, these bricks
I built them, I placed them
And I wish you would stop sending knights
To kill my dragons.