if i believe
in death be sure
of this
it is

because you have loved me,
moon and sunset
stars and flowers
gold crescendo and silver muting

of seatides
i trusted not,
                    one night
when in my fingers

drooped your shining body
when my heart
sang between your perfect
*******

darkness and beauty of stars
was on my mouth petals danced
against my eyes
and down

the singing reaches of
my soul
spoke
the green-

greeting pale-
departing irrevocable
sea
i knew thee death.

                              and when
i have offered up each fragrant
night,when all my days
shall have before a certain

face become
white
perfume
only,
          from the ashes
then
thou wilt rise and thou
wilt come to her and brush

the mischief from her eyes and fold
her
mouth the new
flower with

thy unimaginable
wings,where dwells the breath
of all persisting stars

somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands

When I met you, I was a draft.
An artwork to never be complete.
My eyes of charcoal
My veins of graphite
No color flowed through me for I was
Lifeless.

You opened up to me
You redesigned my thoughts.
Your paintbrush stroked a bright blush onto my cheeks
You turned me into
Bright pastels
With glorious indigos
Overwhelming scarlets
And mysterious lavenders.

You kissed me in a backdrop of
Forest greens.
You created scenery for
Every emotion,
Dressed me with rainbows,
And completed my blank spaces.
You turned me into a masterpiece.
But before you could sign your
Glorious painting
You realized
You could do better pieces
And pastel was over rated anyways.

If you feel you have no reason to forgive someone,
Consider this one - forgive because you deserve peace of mind.
Holding a grudge is like making your worst enemy the center of your life,
Don't give such authority to anyone,
A grudge only hurts you,so what's the point of holding it?
Its like holding a really sharp edged knife hoping it'll slice your enemys fingers when in the actual sense its slicing your own.
We all wish grudges could hurt the ones we hold them against but sadly they only hurt us.