I want to know what you do with your hands
when you're not doing anything at all.
And I want to peel back your layers and read between the lines
of your palms.
I want to know what your face looks like as you slip into a dream...
To drift in your sea of thoughts and watch your forgotten memories crash against your shores.
I want to listen to the music of your breath as you rest your wary bones.
I want to know what your voice sounds like as you slowly wake, unfurling like a flower in your bed.
I want to be ringed by the flame of your desires and wander through all of your darkest depths.
I want to taste your chaos like nectar so sweet.
To breathe your air.
And learn the song of your soul.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
Does the sage bush dread the winter's cold hands?
Or is she ready for a long, pleasant sleep?
Will the bitter cold wind make her weep
As it peels away her furry skin?
Will she cry when she's
bare-boned
& frail?
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
Hundreds of words lived inside of me,
Swirling about my brain.
I wanted to spill them at your feet, truly I did.
Adjectives burned my tongue and
Tiny verbs danced about my stomach.
They laughed furiously
Until all that was left were encrypted sonnets,
that dug down deep,
Burrowing inside a place they were sure to be safe.
You wanted to read them,
Instead I swallowed them whole.
I did tell you once.
I told you everything through breathy prayers
But you never heard
Because you were asleep.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC