I drop these words into a
raging sea of letters,
bursting from my chest
they are lost now.
The question is not,
Can you hear me?
But,
Do you want to?

Sister,
you are daughter to our father.
Set in your ways
of practicality and reason.
Frigid, you are hunks of ice
clinking in my glass.
Never one to walk
barefoot over fire.
Rather, safe in your tower
of solitude.

Brother,
you are son to our mother.
Perpetually stumbling
down steps
               of regret
                       and carelessness.
Steaming, you are ashes
burning, ripping through the
end of my cigar.
Tirelessly chasing after
momentary balance
of your scales.

Me,
I am both mother and father,
both brother and sister.
Eternally tangled,
my strings of rationality
knotted with my
also impetuous strands.

My words feed from the flesh
that gives them strength, my pain

I let the writer in me die,
suffocated by my joy

In a world of sunshine
still the darkness creeps in

It is so frigid in the shade

When all have turned away
from the lifeless poet,
her fingers twitch at last

Reborn to pour her soul
onto paper with words
whether blissful or wretched

She awakens.

A drop of you falls from

my left canine tooth

and my tongue receives

its biggest rush.

It comes to mind that

maybe it is not lipstick

that stains my mouth

crimson after all.

As I look down upon you

squirming in your own

personal cherry colored

body paint,

I can barely hold in

a wicked giggle.

I’m not sure if I prefer

the click-clack of my

high heels on the

now contaminated tiles,

or your screams.

Don’t worry,

I’ll lock the door behind me.

I look at the way raindrops

slide down the glass of

my bedroom windows

and I wonder if they love it

as much as I adore when

your fingertips slide down

my skin almost the same way.

If I were glass and you

were water,

I’d wish for rain everyday.

If your last breath was 
taken
in front of my 
weeping eyes,

my lips would not 
know a
sorrow worse
 than kissing you
for
 the last time. 

Your wounds visible,

and mine bleed on the

inside as yours do onto

the now crimson concrete.

My lips and fingertips are

stained scarlet by your demise,

I still crave you like I used to. 

I won’t let a drop of you go

to waste my darling.

My tongue tastes whats

left of you and I know now

that love is the most sick

form of beauty that I’ve seen.

Stranded out in the bitter cold
wind slicing up my cheeks
while it slaps me with its icy fingers

Limbs buried in the dense snow
weighed down by the frozen
hopelessness that is as far as the
eye can bare to see

Although weakness threatens me
and death nips at my nose
I beg of all to leave me be,
I dare them

For I know that through the
darkest night of my life
thoughts of you will rush
to comfort me

I think of your piercing eyes
and how the blueness calms me

My mind runs to thoughts of
your lips- to each pure kiss

These frigid fingertips of mine yearn
to be entwined with yours once more

As love awakens in me
the warmth you’ve embedded
into my being multiplies

I find myself free of the icy *******
in a pool of warm hopefulness  

Green emerges from the thousand
shades of melting white
and I know lovely things will grow
from what I have made it through

The sun kisses every inch of me
the way only you do and I know
I can get back to you now.