my soul
is delicately written
in the most beautiful ink
not the kind
that stays neatly
between the lines
but the kind that bleeds
the kind that spills
when I am trying
to hold myself together
staining every page
with pieces of me
I never knew
how to say aloud
there are colors here
I have hidden for years
soft ones
aching ones
ones I was afraid
would be too much
if you ever saw them

but here they are
bleeding through the paper
one after another
every fear
every tenderness
every scar
I learned to call beautiful
just so I could live with it
I am not giving you
a perfect version of me
I am giving you
the pages I almost tore out
the words I swallowed
the feelings I buried
the places in me
that still tremble
when touched
this is my soul
messy
unfinished
soft in all the places
I pretend to be strong

and still
I am letting it bleed
across these pages
leaving nothing
behind the lines
nothing for me to hide
so that when you read me
you do not just see
the colors

you see
where they came from