I hover over your words
not for perfections.

don't paint me an azure sky
cotton clouds
a field of sunflower
gold crests of afternoon waves
dark labyrinths
inner demons
or even angel faeries

for my life of half drawn images
half digested joys
faintly lit phantoms
rough edge
rugged walkway

write me out
a flawed poem
imperfected to the hilt
no structure
no style
wild jots of your thoughts
just like you and me

*flawed but heavenly!

some mate for life
some spawn prolifically
in a river of destiny
some drop their seed
on a passerby
never to return,
progeny never asks
why?
some whelp upon a pack
some just like to clone
some eternally are broken
most are left alone
after the act
there is no pact
or written dictates
we are all different creatures
all with similar animal traits

She was born to love the moon while
his songs hailed to the sun.
Twins, twins, twins, twins, the words sound.

Her hair is short and dark when
his is long and light.
She hunts and swears and shouts,
he sings and dances and laughs.
Twins, twins, twins, twins, the words sound.

Frost covers her mouth and
his lips are warmer than the sun.
Her kisses are harsh like winter and his
are soft and sweet like midsummer rain.
Twins, twins, twins, twins, the words sound.

my skin is covered in green and
yellow and black and blue
fear grips me as much as love and
the memory of you is heavy on my mind

the colours that cover my skin (don’t?)
move and writhe and
the monsters haunt me at night
(they’re painted on my body and
we’ll never be free)

tangy blue taints my heart and
sometimes i
wake to the smell of
blood and destruction and
i don’t even mind at all

there’s a ghost in my chest and
a lock on my door and
i named them both after you

he leans in, closer to
the face in the water and
eros strikes his heart.

he sees the marvel and the joy and
it’s so beautiful he
can’t look away.

as he moves, the
stranger moves as well and
even though the gods are
cruel and fickle and angry, he
thanks them when it gets dark.

the leaves are falling now and
the stranger in the water looks
weary and starving but he
can’t bring himself to
look away.

it’s winter first and then the
spring notices the boy is gone,
a story of days gone by with
nothing but a flower
in his place.

Blowing eastern winds
refresh the trees and flowers,
hear the breeze, flourish.

rain faced, bright sunshine
enlightens our spirits.
ah, green and nourished*.

















.

Butterflies swarming.
Weakness?
No.

A sign of strength.
Strength in knowing,
Knowing you are one step closer,
One leap farther,
A simple breath nearer,
To Love.