The sun and my heart both beat,
the sun on the horizon
day after day
rising and setting,
and my heart,
within my spirit
beating forever
to the rhythm of the love within me.
Two drums beating,
for two different
but no lesser causes.

Your words cut deep,
drawing ink from my wound,
that drips onto the page-
running down the paper,
spelling out screams as it flows-
turning from red to black,
and cold
and dry
as dust.

Darling for you I'd pour the Milky Way
from the sky onto the page,
because only with every star
could I even begin to shed enough light
on the description of the Galaxy
in your eyes.