I hope he can express himself
Without breaking her boundaries
It is easy to forget
It hurts to remember
That he became a better man
On the day that he met her
A heart once cold
Ignited by her ember
How she turned his heart of leather
Into something tender
He sits on this lonely cold November
Pondering how a stranger
Could make his soul feel like he met her
In another life
In the depths of his dreams
Alone in the crowd
How the stars in her eyes
Made him feel seen
The monkey on his mind
She made him believe
That love was the gravity
That pulled on the seams
Of his stoic façade
If there is a god
She is the essence of a pretty blonde
Sundresses and scars
She taught him that perfection
Is the product of our flaws
She is the songbird
Singing melodies through the jungle trees
The butterflies in his gut
The weakness in his knees
That is her
The universe could never do her justice with these words
Let him be frank
He owes you his life
A message of my thanks.

Look deeply through my eyes,
And see how special you are to me.
25/11/2020

i see your breath,
cold calling,
i must confess,
it’s shivering.

a pale dew,
from your lips,
thirty-two,
and falling.

looking back,
i’m painted blue,
your exhale
was resisting.

my heart trembles
lying in the dust

wings broken
by the glass
of the windows
to your soul

your mysterious eyes
entice me so

i really love you
i don't know how to say it
so here goes:

if we went to the moon
we'd splash down over the mariana's trench

we'd sink straight to the bottom
and somehow float to the top

the thousands of miles
to that greyish white rock

but somehow the 7 miles down compares

if we were a castle
we wouldn't be a french one

the stone fortresses of ireland
are much more our style

northerners don't belong
on the southern grounds

so we continue on through the night
and dip our toes into the end of the world

the rio grande may twist through siberia
but somewhere in there is our oasis

and all the miles we travel are the love i have for you

Words can make you feel
Many different things.
Words can make you feel
As if you have wings.

Words can also hurt
And make you feel a mess.
Words can make you change
How you look and how you dress.

Words are very dangerous
Although they're all around.
But what would happen if
They made not a sound?

The world would just feel empty
With no joy to be found.
What pleasure it does bring
That we do have sound!

So be happy we have words-
Just use them carefully
Because they are sharp
And can cut into me.

-

~a small pile of ash—

some teeth
metal oxide and
grated bone material

fitting a cardboard
vault with such a
precision

a weighing of decision

to throw in some
flour or a handful
of dirt

upon a
lifetime allotment
of sanctified hurt

i sleep
to-night in a
shoe box casket

to fathom that
finalized state
of being ~


s jones
Nov 2020



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