Being good

Is not enough.

I need a poisonous tip
one that is as sharp
as the tongues of these mockers
shouting in my ears.

I need a hallow soul
with an emptiness...
as vast as the crevasse
found in my heart.

I need a knife,
a blunt knife,
to slowly feel its edges
cut open my skin

until it causes
my heart
until it causes
my soul

to cease to exist.

For what is life but a series of unfathomable events...
leading us astray?

Loving and being loved
starting over again
knowing someone worthy
someone more than a friend
Feeling her heart next to mine
In the chill of the night
whilst her arms wrap around me
holding me tight
Remembering her quirks and dislikes
being used like a tool
building a universe around her
exposing myself like a fool
Giving love another chance
giving love another toast
these are the things
that I fear the most.

I have made so many poems
... of joyful, youthful glow
and carved them in my memory
... a capsule of years ago.

I have dealt with so many dreams
... I've dealt with so many fire
to purify this anguished life
... consuming my wildest desire.

Perhaps one day I'll make a dream
perhaps... with you this time around
Perhaps I'll stop making poems
for YOUR poetry will now abound

I hope someday, you'll find it too
that peace your turmoil's been searching
for in the space of our lavished arms
Is where you, Kristine, will be staying.

God, your eyes
Slivering, tempting, unrefined
Luring my senses behind.
  
  God, your eyes.

I've prayed for you
a million times
before I laid
my eyes unto yours

I've dreamt of this
for a thousand summers
before your sunshine
shone deep unto my abyss