i draw compliments out, oozing like
honey from a half empty jar.
maybe i am half empty-
trapped air, (gutted, cored, still bearing the scoop marks like scars)
the ghosts of hornets,
filled in a vacuum.
someone once told me that my aura was dark blue,
tension, anxiety, anger.
i think my aura has grown dark gold to yellow like a fading bruise.