Love derived from pain:

I can't help but stare—
my doe eyes
adoring the hunger
in your gaze.

Power so paralyzing,
like predator to prey,
a crave for the chase,
teasing ritualistic dance,
this doe—
stood no chance.

Lips hot as fire;
lust inevitably sparks—
aching, burning,
desire.

Your hands grace my hips,
as you feast on savory seed,
salvation relieved in sin—
a seraphic altar,
of temptation and greed.

Branded in black and blue—
kisses bloomed to bites,
a noose of love is lassoed,
as red stained all,
that was white.

Whispers of prayer,
echoed by pleas,
screams of vain,
harmonized in matrimony.

Love derived from pain;

Like predator to prey,
holiness unravels
a stifled amen,
forever faithful—
kneeled to praise,
as love is derived from pain.

Tears of joy:

Saying goodmorning to two strangers.
On a path you followed—
when you didn't know where else to go.

A path you pondered
your inevitable end.

Profoundly finding love in the breeze,
and purpose in the birds songs.

Seeing grief in the trees,
and loss in the empty benches

Hope calling in the bare winter branches,
and slivers of life—
screaming,
in the slow ponds.

Sighs of relief,
laughter that feels like home.

A pep, in your step!

Saying goodmorning to two strangers;
With truth—
And tears, that felt like joy.

I feel like a tree
has rooted itself
under the foundation of our love,
and it is pushing away our home.

You one time told me that
I only exist because you let me.

That sentence—
It felt like bullets grazing past my skin.
I wasn't shocked, yet—
it still chips at my peace of mind.

If we're speaking in terms of technicality,
that is true—
I only exist because
you,
let me.

I can see your resemblance in the
mountains and valleys
of the pores on my face,
but,

I do not exist completely.

I am faltered.
I am stagnant.
I have been a-strayed,
from my body.

I am atom against atom,
pummeling in the world.

The marks and
linings on my skin—
like bark
on a tree.

The roots are dry,
and the branches sigh in the wind—
the tree is tired

But there's still spikes of green,
decorating the withered branches,
and freckles of pink
begging to blossom.

And if I knew how you loved me so,
I'd let you carve our initials.

I would trade every pound of silver and gold,
if it meant I could relish in you,
even just an ounce of your love,
for I have no greater jewel than your touch.

I would give up every muse in my art,
if it meant I could paint one last memory,
every word frothing at my mouth,
for I have no ink left in this quill.

I would barter every bone in my body,
if it meant I could kneel at your door,
unable to keep myself up,
for I am a shell emptied of all foundation.

I would walk away from the Garden of Eden,
just to spend my mornings under your gaze,
daring to bite the apple from the tree,
for there is no greater loss,
than never having taken the risk at all.

Although I am seen
for beauty and grace—
the soft curve of a smile
and shimmering pearls.

I wonder, do you see my eyes?
How they glisten
at the sight of bare trees—
birds nests strung like ornaments
along winter branches.

Do you read my mind?
Dare to trace the unending delicate threads
of intimate thoughts I spin—
and how I quietly, carefully
weave love.

Can you feel me?  
Do you hear my echos of desire,
pleading to be noticed,
aching to be heard—
my tune yearning to harmonize?