Where I’m From?

I’m from midnight thoughts that never learned to whisper.

From side-eyes and soft smirks,

from heels that click like warning shots

and lips that never tell secrets —

unless they’re laced in venom.

I’m from silence that swallows a room whole.

From hard lessons stitched into soft skin,

from girls who loved too much

and rose from it dangerous.

Where I’m from,

we don’t cry over what broke us.

We wear it.

Like lipstick. Like leather. Like legend.

I’m from the edge.

From the kind of place they write about

but never survive.

Where are you from?

Because if it’s not fire and fight —

you might not make it where I’m going.

-L