The birds that live in the spaces between my bones
have left me with quite a collection of feathers
but still not enough to make wings.
 
And if we lived like trees
could we appreciate the shortness of life
or would we be lost in time.
 
I know we can make lightning in the most dangerous ways,
and you never know how thick the ice is until you are in the middle of the lake.
 
The shadows and the patterns in the snow tell me not to worry
that everything will be okay. And my veins store their truth in my blood.
 
If I could I would weave a dress out of your words and your watercolors
in turn I would write my secrets on your arms.
 
Looking at you is like diving into the ocean
which I've never done, but I might if you were with me.
 
I love passion so thick it leaves wine colored stains
but sometimes all I can offer your beauty is a smile
even though being with you makes me happier then I can breathe.