His fingertips were dripping with honey and he danced through a pool  of milk on weekends.

Yet on one Saturday afternoon; grey and gloomy, he swooned and drowned in that same pool of milk.

I  could not save him so love letters sat waiting, buried at the bottom of that ivory white tub when drained.

He was waiting on  me.

His fingers bled and left the pages sticky when writing. His fingers bled with honey and my eyes began to fill with tears.

He told me all his biggest fears yet I never listened.

showed me all his darkest secrets and scars but I never looked.

And now those love letters, sappy apology notes from something he never did wrong wrapped it’s fingers around my wrist made scars as deep as his and now it’s too hard to  read them.

You know, cuz it’s covered honey and drenched in milk much like my ivory white tub is now.

I felt her in my body
She knew my true side
That's why I knew what
I had to write
In my heart
Where she never looked
Before, that's when I became a mystery

The deer, for one
Know better than to fraternize with humans
And their mechanistic ways
With coffee and love and oil to burn
Les their own natural pattern be disturbed
And lost
In our perceptive order and ignorance
Of the ways of the turning world
Beneath our very feet
They'd better not
Learn

I'm breathing slowly.

I begin
  to become
             undone  

whilst letting you love me.

It’s a gentle loving,
an act of giving.

We all have cracks
that are in need of filling.