(there's charcoal dust on the
tips of her fingers
that travel across a million different surfaces
never finding home)

she's no plain jane, baby
look closer than the freckles on her nose
dive into the
tear-drop-stained-bed-sheets
on top of the
underlying-messages-in-phone-conversations
that always seem to end in
sugary-giggles-and-remember-that-one-time?

indulge yourself in
the-secrets-inside-her-work
that

you will never understand