act with full knowledge:
look down into the precipice
before jumping

as memories,
pieces of paper,
all attached by some invisible string
so delicate,
so tangible,

these are the pieces of my life
all carefully arranged; away from a narrative
like verses in a poem
they can stand alone but mean so much more together
trully grasping my soul

I'm running out of paper
I'm running out of ink
I cannot write you
no matter how I try

WE lose ourselves in love
as footprints in the desert

Rich as touch,
As the stroke of ink
to the page,
as simple
as beautiful
as your breath to my ear
Darling, speak again.

Satisfy my madness,
Leave your clothes
at the door.
Turn off the light.
Now Catch me!