These words are written in blood
From a myriad of wounds
Gashes from self-loathing
Poisonous ****** from loved ones
Bullet holes from life itself
Coated in the acid of illness
And whether it is for poetry's sake
Or to watch myself bleed
I tear off my scabs
And then I write

And We Danced Our Way Through The Night.
Clumsily Finding Our Way Into Each Other's Hearts.

We Were Like The Sun Still Learning To Swim
The Skies On The Second Day Of Creation.
We Traded Stories Of Love And Loss
Over 2am Coffee Sessions On Cold Winter Skies

We've Always Been Particularly
Romantic About The Winter
Because It Reminded Us That
Our  Hearts Were Not The Only Cold Place
We Were Trapped In.


And In The Silences Between Our Thoughts,
I Could Pause Just Long Enough To See
The Sparkle In Your Eyes
Every Time We Talked About The Things You Love

Books, Poetry, ***** And  [me]

These Are The Things That
Kindled A Fire In Your Eyes.