Pale fingers intertwining,
a bittersweet hand squeeze. 
His thumb softly rubbing against her
cold, silken skin 

--But their faces!
Rosy cheeks, shining eyes
Two staccato heartbeats.
The wind whipped and tossed and screamed,
ebony locks flowing like the whispers 
in the night.

The horizon was near.
The ocean looked up hungrily,
muttering; tempting, teasing
Screams filled the dead air:
Elation, as they leaned in to embrace.

Finally, an exit out of this maze. 
Now we can truly be together
Now we can truly be free.

I'll find you on the other side, darling.

Two extra splashes into the now silent sea, 
Two soaring doves, carefree gemini.

Words are harmless, so they say,
That's where the problem starts;
Sticks and stones
May break our bones
But words will break our hearts.



Words are harmless, so they say,
And point you to their charts;
It's harmless fun,
No damage done.
But... Who will mend our hearts?



The x-rays show no damage
Where words have scathed across,
But it still feels hard to manage,
And leaves you at a loss.



Words are harmless, don't complain,
That's where the problem starts.
It's quite absurd-
A single word-
Enough to break our hearts!



But words are harmless, they maintain;
The subject of their parts,
No less or more,
So let them pour
From all our broken hearts

You were brought up to cast the fragile truth
In that summer haze
I dawned something new
You held it like crystals,
Rather glass
It faded like the sky
Gray in the past

You cascaded over sorrow
Scalding your skin
Silver flakes fell
Counting your sins
The lining you drew
That was once my escape
Now hung up like jade
Curling at his nape

All this time
You held my heart it your palm.

*What was I devised?

I once rubbed a crucifix to know
what it was like to be touched by Christ.
It wasn't warm.
He wasn't warm.
He was rusty metal.
A relic.
A man who has long since died.

One day that will be me.
A long lost artifact
Or photograph, that
will be stuffed in a drawer
next to a book and some condoms.

Forget what they tell you
About being a masterpiece
You are not art

You are not stagnate beauty,
Nor were you created for the pleasure of others

You were not meant to be marveled at
by the simple minded
Or ridiculed for your every flaw

You are not art

You are wind
Sending chills through the bones
of those in your presence

You are fire
Spitting embers with a coal-coated tongue

You are water
A bubbling stream of euphoric laughter

No, you are not art
You are so much more