He had bright eyes that poured sunlight into his skin
because his flesh
could never retain the youth his soul encompassed.
Nature wore him down to the bones
and maybe that’s how we are born
and maybe that’s how we leave…
through the dirt.
Adam was never a clean man to begin with
and somehow he still birthed us with bacteria in our veins.
We were never clean to begin with.
She always felt dirty
as if her hands were ruined with the imprint of his touch
and the lines that kissed her palms sagged,
emulating the way his wrinkles spelled out stories.
Macbeth is her favorite one
because Shakespeare glorified impurity
and all she ever wanted was reassurance stapled to her lungs
so she could exhale confidence
instead of suffocating in anxiety.
She knew this was going to happen.
She just didn’t know when.
Her cosmic gaze would always remind you
of how close they would be to his sun-ray orbs
since their genetics are a galaxy God carefully strung together Himself.
They were beautiful.
Whenever she blinked,
her eyelashes always told you to handle with care
because she knew she was fragile
maybe even more than him
and I knew she was a package that was delivered already broken.
I just wanted to put her back together again
because maybe if I reassembled her,
she’d remember that she was always the finest piece of China.