Pink Sakura, Pink Sakura.
Oh where do I begin.
Adrenaline, knees separate, a touch upon your chin.

Pink Sakura, Pink Sakura.
From there do I descend.
And down your neck and collarbone, sensation stirs within.

Pink Sakura. I whisper words.
You bite your lip again.
I feel them all, Pink Sakura, the goosebumps on your skin.

Another inch. Pink Sakura.
I reach your abdomen.
Another breath you can't contain; the fire and the sin.

Pink Sakura. It's getting warm.
I wonder where you've been.
I'm drawing near, it's softer here. I pass a subtle grin.

Pink Sakura, Pink Sakura.
Your heart is beating fast.
I find my way beneath the lace.
Pink Sakura, at last.

peachy dreams
splatter down with the sunset

She danced in the moonlight dazzle by the sun, she wanted her dreams to come true no matter what she was going through...
The Fire within kept her dancing even when she was burned, broken and weak the chemo only made her sleep... only to be told she can’t dance anymore they will have to take her ***** she felt naked on the dance floor... lost and alone in her zone her Fire Pink was completely gone!
As the sunset and the skies turned orange, red and Pink she asked God “ Please Take This Cancer Away From Me”!!!! Weaping with sorrow all she could think about was hair that was falling out everywhere..
Her last tear touched the ground as an Angel appears with Fire Pink in his hand , he reached through her solar plexus to light the Spark that was Dimmed. Fire Pink dances free now she touches those who are sleep.

By, Jana Maxwell Clay dedicated to my Auntie Danielle Denise Duckett

let me talk about pink
she's seductive and sweet like sugar cookies
wild and free than the flowers growing over the meadow
loving and proud like the cherry blossom trees that stand tall
beautiful but deadly like the rose and her thorns
she's energetic, she's loud
she's silent, she's artistic
but know she will always be strong
stronger than the illness she's connected to
stronger than the world
stronger than every hateful or heart breaking word that hits her
sometimes she might fall
sometimes she will tumble
sometimes she will collapse and cry for a while
but she will rise again
like the sun always does in the morning
and the moon in the evening
she will become strong again
and will never give up

My train of thought takes me to an ethnic enclave of pride located in my dystopian head. Outside of this head of myne is a pink butterfly trapped in a grey cocoon. I’d leave this cocoon and finish my metamorphosis if I weren’t trapped in a spider’s web, this hideous cocoon is my only protection from it’s pain inducing bite. I’m always on high alert to defend myself. I must always keep my defences high and never let my guard down or it will take advantage of my vulnerability. The word stress is an understatement, I feel as if this web is draining me of life, as if it loves the taste of my misery. I am bewildered and overwhelmed with the weight of my ever growing responsibilities. Soon enough this spider’s patience will die out and I will be the one to take advantage of its vulnerability. Until then I wait.
END