dark are the eyes
through which we see
hard is the heart
that inside beats
only the lonely
know of the deeds
cold are the hands
that outward reach

follow the progress
that gets in the way
swallow the innocence
in what we say
two-sided knife
baked in the cake
savor the flavor
of the escape

hold onto your breath
if there's any left
along with the secrets
that you have kept
tossing and turning
in unmade beds
knowing the deeds
cold are the hands

Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin

When you remember in your dreams
making poems and rhymes
then you can rest assured
that poetry is in your heart.