Look through the eyes of a hero.
There is fire
There is darkness
There is splendor.

He fights.
Clashes of the sword with his cowardly enemies.
flashes of light
screams of the wounded
groans of the dying.

It’s all in his valor.

His notorious armor and rank,
all mirror the faces of those whom he has slain.

One last clash,
one last swipe of his sword
and the blood that begins to pool
is that of a hero…
His blood.

a flash of light
a scream
a groan from a dying hero

His mausoleum is erected,
his valor etched in stone
as the battle rages on

More clashes
More blood
More heroes.

The picture is aging
The corners no longer crisp –
A tear in one side
and the memory falls to the floor

Who will claim that spot on the wall?
Who will look through the eyes of a hero now?

Press your skin to mine
I want to feel the music
of your heart
pulsate in my veins
Pushing

your hand to mine.
I’ll trace the outline
of your fingers, as
I feel your eyes
Touching

my soul. They play
and court my blushes
daring me to break a smile.
All I want is you
Seeing

all of me. Take me.
Do not let me go
until we’ve exhausted ourselves
and our kisses are
Clinging

and desperate
attempts to stay connected
to each other.
Please. I know you are
Hearing

my words for they are
all for you. Only you.
All I want,
All I can ask is for you to not stop
Kissing

me.

I cannot give you everything
but I can give you all that I have,
all that I am

when you look at me the way you do
I can look back,
allowing my thoughts to pour
from my eyes and
wash over
the gap in between us.
When you read them all one by one
you will not find any lies,
only the secrets behind the ties
that I have woven between yourself and I.

You will feel the warmth of the passion
that we make
and reveal the joy that has erased
the whole of our heartache

There is nothing that I could keep from you
nor anything that would cause my heart,
soul or body to be untrue

At the same time,
there is nothing that I could say,
to express the fiery sentiments within me
that I wake up to everyday

it was nothing
that turned to something
that is now everything

I know that I should not rush
but when you look at me the way you do,
I see the sparkle of a speed demon
always up for a challenge

You are welcome to read my mind
as I know you so often do
for beneath the laughter, blushes and sighs,
it’s incredible how much I really care about you
feel free to ask the when’s and why’s
because there are no lies behind these eyes

He smiles
She blushes

He touches her thigh
She playfully smacks his hand

He stares
She turns away

He reads
She listens

He says ‘I love you’
She kisses him

He takes off her shirt
She throws her ******* to the floor

He sleeps
She says ‘I love you’

He wakes up
She says ‘Goodbye’

she wants to be a child again.
splashing in puddles with her
rain boots on.
Now he holds her hand but
stands five feet away when she sees a puddle.

jealous looks falling like Buckeyes.
Knocking her on the head
so rude – those **** squirrels.
apparently things are changing,
she’s not even aware.
splashing and laughing just as
she did yesterday,
just as she will tomorrow…
if she has the time.

she didn’t want him to
see her cry.
He has before, but
each time feels different
and each time she tries to be strong.
lips quivering, her vision becomes
blurred as she furiously bats
her lashes desperately trying
to stay strong…
but no.
a drop, two drops of weakness
fall.

she confesses everything,
more weakness exposed.
it hurts…
don’t fall…
don’t fail…
These words cannot possibly
do her passion justice.
They were made to be together.

She wants to dance.
Dance until she can barely feel her knees
and it's impossible to wipe the sweat from her brow.

She wants their love to be
eternal.
Exactly how they croon and
whisper to each other.
Waking up to him each and
every morning.

She wants to write.
Nothing infamous, but enough
so that she is recognized every so often.
Enough to keep money in her pocket.

She wants her own life.
Music, happiness, success,
love...

The worry-free American dream.
Why does it have to be a dream?
Why not a Monday?

Maybe some day...
She'll wake up on that Monday.

“While the woman sleeps and dreams of all that breaks, come into this house of many rooms”

There’s you and me
and the bats in the belfry
you think they’re blind
but they can see

“There is another language being spoken here, a tongue that emanates from white clay, fire, the oils of many skins…”

Crack of sun and the bats fly away
It’s too bad,
I wanted them to stay
but they don’t do well during the day

“The woman hears this language always, even in her sleep, because she is guilty, and because those who speak to her are never silent.”

My scars you try to understand
as you caress them with your hand
but alas,
you are merely another man

“Something in your awareness might start to take shape, something vaguely unsettling. Perhaps you shouldn’t touch anything…”

The bats did not cause the scars
nor did my broken heart
but as you try to love me,
my mind is torn apart

“But no. Somewhere the woman still sleeps – she is weeping now…come back when you’re ready.”