his sweet breath
a siren song
what can I say?
see, I breath only in prose
so broken that it takes transcription
just to utter a word
when the floodgates of my mind are open
my tongue knows no boundaries
the flower of my words
sweet on my lips
candied roses
I sigh in sonnets
only later to realize that
the song had been rewritten

as
                the
words          
          tumbled
out                

the candy are now cough drops
a hint of what they appear to be

      
his breath is a siren song
and mine is a stanza so delicate
that it doesn't know where to start
or


stop.