Your tongue
is an abstract painting,
an artwork born of passion,
each stroke so intricate
yet so abstruse.
Paint with me,
darling.

He’s a falling star
Burning in the night
He’s the shimmer on the water
In the river of moonlight.

She fell bravely,
swiftly,
to the untold
like a rose pedal
letting go
of her thorns
and let the wind
blow her
wherever it carried her.

☽
      
        lately there’s been a voice in my head
        telling me slowly to go ahead
        tell me voice,
        do you have to make all that noice ?
        when my heart needs the silence of me
        and my true    m
                               a
                                   d
                               n
                                    e
                                s
                              ­       s

In terms of matters of the heart
there’s only one truth that’s gotten me by:
That something this strong and unique,
could never be anything less than mutual.
The world is cruel, but it’s not evil.