You see perfection i see the grief seeping into her skin, I see the pain huddled in the crevices of her toes like devoted worshippers hoping that they can get help from the greater unknown. I see the nooks of her elbows, the space between her breasts occupied by hands of those who threw a party at her home so they can crash it, as if she can't throw her own parties and invite whomever she wants, like men who know the English language enough she doesnt have to listen to a boy mansplain her words, to make them his own to try to convince her that when she says no, she really mean yes but is too modest to admit it. Instead she will hear the definition of space. The definition of equality the definition that when a woman says no, she means NO.

You see beauty. I see the disappointment behind the flicker in her mother's eyes. I see the disdain that's sweeps her into the corner of a big house with no space for walls to run into each other. No space for secret meetings for them to brag about how well they kept the rif- raff out, or how they contain poisonous candy and rats, but still manage to keep it together. No space for corners to act as passage ways for the words sprawled onto the walls that have no voice. No space for her corner. No space for the crevices hidden within the scratch in the plaster in which she made a home. Where her throw pillows share the bed with the withered expectations that she perceives as encouragement. That when they say go get it girl they really mean it, that they don't turn around and poke and prod at each syllable thats fallen off her tongue when its riddled with emotion. As if her passion to speak is a crime. But they say they can say whatever cause they have rights. But as soon as my rights are introduced I am in the wrong. I am the monster lurking under children's beds simply waiting for their vulnerability to feast on so that I may sustain myself. Or that my words can be an aimed gun full of empty spaces where bullets are meant to be. For I can be dangerous if needed. For I can take fire and leave more then a noise, but I am empty, staring at a room full of fallen soldiers wondering where all the cartridges went.