Water spills from my edges –
rose petal skin unfolding
like french kisses and sweetness.
I am a tree whittled
to pale, raw bark glimmering
in moonlight as she tells me every secret
of every star, and ink blooms –
foliage words curling themselves
wistfully around every inch of me.
I write love letters to myself
in blues, peaches, pinks
and seal them with blood
come honey gold.
And I love, I love and love.
A poem I wrote about turning 26 last month.
Poem: © Kristiana Reed 2020