When you held the knife

Its tip reflected in the sun 

And twinkled among shadows 

You tantalized me by waving it slowly 

Curves painting pictures 

When you asked me what I saw 


Were clouds 

Big ones that surrounded you 

That made the setting of the sun bleed

Enough to paint the pages of our story 

Mattie Grace Levy

I'm a black woman, a classically trained oboist, a self-taught composer, and an introspective poet trying to comprehend my thoughts.

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