LADYBUG
Just another day waking up alone—
No one blowing up my brand new phone.
Do you think my flesh and bones
remind you of a ladybug?
My exterior printed off as fields full of black dahlias and red roses,
I almost always wear denim clothes.
Not much waters my field these past years—
Broken taps and hoses.
Does the shape of my Irish nose remind you of a ladybug?
I’ve developed my mother’s birthmark.
Some nights get too dark—
I guess I just love the sparks of the midnight sky.
Does the trailer park routine of my life remind you of a ladybug?
My hands stand open like wounds—
Legs crossed, the lower one gone numb.
I stare at nothing, yet words flood in—
Poems scream in my black and white brain.
What have I become?
Did I ever remind you of a ladybug?
Or maybe a green thumb?
Never mind—you probably think the way I’m going on is dumb.
_________________________________________
Want to try your hand at poetry? Email me at poeticiapoems@gmail.com
Featured image credits to Pexels on Pixabay
