Silent sounds brush
The eerie calm chants.
We knew it would happen,
But when would it happen?

Sing to me the sweet pain
And stem not the bleeding.
Tell the tale of summer’s cold
And breathe in the flames of winter.

You can pass my eyes
Without a second glance,
As I lip sync my thoughts
Onto your soft skin.

Resist not motion
Of a cherry sensation
Sweet, yet wild as
A blossom in full bloom.

© 2004