sweet escape

by
some tagged me, — poetess... [shhh...]
[like you, i smiled too] [trenchantly arrogant]

[didn't correct 'em], i let their faux pas beliefs
slip lento to my fingers, choosing to pen 'em
with the words of my soul's language, having
as proofreader the whispers of my emotions

texts got molded in tints of my eyes' dialect,
rhyming with a questioning laugh, deeply and
artfully aimed ​by my spectral thoughts
with crystalline sounds like some infant's sin

my DNA, like the graphene, defined to me
how to love... [to love you...] [to love stuff…],
[which must be done as much as is necessary,
gradually and sufficiently to not get injured]

…

some tagged me, — poetess... [shhh...],
they felt my sweet escape at the rococo degree


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