Here I am
Writing poetry again
Instead of talking to you

I follow the fault lines
of your soul
Cracked , shaken , go ahead you are stirred
No need for apologies unless you are willing to listen to mine
I can patch your frame but I will never be able to repair the brain
It has been under too much strain
Still we can sit on our hands
Contemplating all the edges of nonsense
Laugh at all the pain we drag around in the barges of our past
Let us embrace around the  corners that cut sharper than suicide
Kintsugi my life with golden voice
As I hold your broken milk
of dispair
Put your fingers into the gaps and tears
Plug the dikes of my failures as you fight my fire with your waters . I don't care but I do as long as you do but don't care . Breathe the breath of my exhaust as I lick your lips of regret . It seems we are beyond repair .

holiness heard
between the sighs
speaking in tongues
untied untithed
united bodies
fused in heat
god whispers
softly in my ear
says my name
your voice I hear
replete
replete
heaven revealed
behind my eyes
as fractal colours
burst within sighs
my love utters
prayers of devotion
elixirs mixing
to loves potion
dissolving walls
breaking ceilings
oh holy morning
our souls revealing

© J.C. 30/09/2019

Trees of auburn and gold,
Where time is irrelevant and love is bold,
Waves gently stroke the shore,
You are mine and I am yours.

Hues of red and pink flood the sky,
Buildings are covered with neon signs,
Dozens of petals decorate the floor,
Suddenly you’re not that far away anymore.

Sunlight dances off the leaves;
Glistening and sparkling in all shades of green,
I wonder if you still feel the same way after,
I look into your eyes and I’ve found my answer.

The pitter-patter of rain against the window,
I turn and I see you drooling on your pillow,
I let out a chuckle and gaze at you in awe,
For you are mine and I am yours.

I wake up each morning with dirt beneath my fingernails
And wonder what I was digging out of
Entombed in the night, when the balm of sleep failed.

Was I dragged below the way you were,
With your red lips and wild eyes?
Was I silent beside you, newly interred,
And clawed my way back into life?

It would not be the first time.
It would not be the second, either.
That I awoke to find death's grime
Caked upon my trembling hands.

Yet I rest easy, despite all that.
I see the evidence it leaves,
And yet my only thought is that
I should likely be relieved...