Frida

You mustn’t misconstrue what I say in this plane,
the tones I take when I’m feeling blue.
It is the way I address my momentary sadness,
it is how I patch up my wounds.
It is a release from the pressures of being human,
of existing in my multidimensional world.
Without this outlet, I would be stricken with a debilitating anger that would grow like a beast in the dark.

This is my canvas of necessity,
where I use only glittering purples, grays and blacks,
as it is the palette my canvas was designed for.
Any other color would ruin the perfect stillness of this velvety texture.

Yet I don’t mention the many other lives I live,
the ones filled with overwhelming emotion,
brimming over with unfettered affection,
nestled in the nook of my inner circle,
who cradle and support my fragile frame.
These are the lives that make up the core of my robust heart,
it is where my people reside.
They are in the vale beyond the sea,
where the lush plumes of green and gold flicker at sunrise,
their halls gleaming with promise.
They wait for me at journey’s end,
their open arms patient and welcoming,
their eyes alight with acceptance.
Here is where I shine uninterrupted,
where I am my truest self.

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