My grandpa
             Words he gave
                            To me once upon a full moon
“Son” he said
            “When you go into this life”
“Remember, that love is a language “
             “So find, my son, find someone”
                     “Who speaks your language “
      “So you don’t have to translate your soul”
                                   Hmmm.

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

can you tell me
my love's worth?
is it as good as yours?
will it ever be enough
to keep you satisfied?
'cause i would break my wrists
and fold my bones,
and wrap my hopes
and dreams around them
with a little red bow
on top,
and fit it all in a box
with a wish and a promise
to always be by your side.
but can my love ever come close
to yours?
will it be enough
to keep you satisfied?

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

you say you’re not a poet but
with a girl like that,
how could you speak
anything less than
the stars?
-a.c.b