Juliette's back
is a shapely cello.
Her hair trailing softly
plays a deep, sad,
mahogany melody.
'La musique malheureuse'
her soul whispers.

But in the morning
she will stretch out,
throw the curtains wide
and light will shine through her.
When she speaks
her harp-like heart
will play a pretty tune.

Your




                                                                                                             broken





                                                           ­                      bindings




                   have




  ­                                                                                                                 torn




                                             my




              pages.

Broken conversations,
empty lungs,
doors half open,
hearts almost out of love.

We used to talk of how
we used to be infinite.
But now every second now feels
like a stroke against an unforgiving current.

Our conversations broke
as the flaws of our souls
fell through the cracks of this glass foundation.

These upset words that escaped you
left the air around me a little sad,
a little awake,
and with a lot of echoes.

My lungs went empty
talking you down.

I left the door open for you.
So you can walk in
and slip in quietly-
I won't say a word.

And this heart could never go empty,
not mine.
Yours,
at this point,
I know not.

Flowers never lost their color
as long as you walked this earth.