I could pick you and
pull the pretty petals of your lies
to my lips

I could have your stain

I could inhale you
and feel the alveoli burst
tissue melting away

I could have your breath

I could look at you
and believe that your eyes say 'love'
when they look back into mine

I could have you...

I am quite optimistic
in everything but the present,
because you are not present.

You supplement me sweetly-
bringing me smiles when I have none,
cutting miles with the passing time.

Fleeting- you are mine.

She is a selfish girl;
She dreams selfish things.
She wants more from him;
She wants more than what he brings.

Dreaming of a change in him is a torture she bears;
Dreaming of something that cannot be theirs.

Do tell sweet boy,
Tell of all that you want;
Tell again
              and
                   again
        and      
again
        until your words run out.

She will be wanting to hear you speak those
slow
        rhythmic
                      dreams.

She will be wanting to hear your lips move with
love
       captivated
                       streams.

Until your thoughts have been impressed,
shifting from their former state.
And your thoughts have been professed
outward, instead of closed to their fate.

Your new ideals on life intone
And your mouth is speaking themes.
Those thoughts are now your own,
And they are her dreams.

Sisters can be difficult creatures,
The towels left transforms me into a preacher.
They combine and plead that it wasn't either- of them,
Defending that they are benign and not leavers.
But I do not accept their lines, I rebut them and decline
What they are feeding me and a desire to confine them- overwhelms.
But instead of convulsing into a seizure or giving in to something malign and of a devious nature,
My words become fiercer as I deliver my "bottom-line"
To those rascally creatures that I wish to refine.
Yet I can hear features of mine, in their voices, before I was their keeper and only nine,
And it made me realize that I, too, once was a creature and not fully defined.
Calming down I enshrine myself and become a wistful dreamer.
To have things I've made stay made would be sublime, and so much cleaner.
And so- in my confines dreaming of refined sisterly creatures, I recline.
Alas, being a teacher makes me want to lie supine.

A creature came and she took your name
and strewn it out across the lane
and said- "how does it feel to breath again?"

And her question caught you so off guard
that you felt the last acrylic shard
release- from your chest.

Then she took your hand and she led you down
to the simple place of earth and sound
and told you- this is what you’ve missed.

And how in shock you felt  as you gazed around
at this lovely place of earth and sound
and feel- so mean inside.

So mean you thought that you had been
for leaving all your childhood grins
to wander- all of the grandeur unnoticed.

Then you felt the warmth on your skin
of the giant sun and angel-kin
of the light ones- those holy ghosts you’ve known.

And the creature- she smiles up at you,
and she knows- that you know what to do;
Just love- and cherish- everything.