All This and None

I am grey-green eyes looking

straight into you,

softness and fire.

I am an off-center smile scrunching one cheek

in amusement or embarrassment;

lips that hold cutting

sarcasm or a goodbye kiss.

I am grown in Magnolias,

matured in the Lone Star;

the paradox of sunset, constant

but changing.

I am pearls bouncing on the collarbone

going secret speeds

on a crotch rocket,

Michael Bublé in all black and chains.

I am the iris looking at life

through an 18-55 mm lens,

memories like pictures capturing

moments, smiles, emotions.

I am sweet potato casserole, thick black coffee,

clinking iced tea and the middle

biscuit won by a quick hand.

I am a picture of who

I’ll become, a thousand words morphing

into countless pages.

I am all this and none,

more than this ink on blank white,

scrawled down out of half duty

and half inspiration.

I am a question mark in the middle

of the sentence.