you, with your lips tainted
with red smudged
after kissing mouths
of strangers along the streets,
are more than the monsters
and all the chances
you’ve let go.
you, with the taste of alcohol –
three straight shots of tequila,
another four of vodka – lingering
like the scent of a lover
after another night’s fuck,
are not the breakfasts left untouched
nor the cups of coffee thrown in the sink.
you, with tear stained cheeks
and bleeding hands while the sun sets
and a new day hesitates to say hello,
are more than the words they throw
at your body that you have never seen
you, with poems in between each breath,
are a fighter.
you, with this poem at hand,
will carry on until tomorrow,
ready to conquer another land.