Maybe it's true
That someone won't cross the sea for me
Walk through fire for me
Or fight for me...

But that's okay, cause I have myself
And I'm the only person that I ever really need

They say the sound
of bird song
calms the
body,
rests the
  pulse.

So fly into my
canopy
beneath
a thousand
trees,
darling,
you're like a birdsong
        to me.

Take the words
out from my mouth
please chew them well,
don't spit them out
Swallow them
deep into your throat
let them circulate,
let them float
into your mind,
into your heart
with my words
         inside you,
we'll never part
        and if
the time comes
that you should speak
in sharp punctuation
across my cheek
know that I might,
for a second,
hold my tongue
before it unfurls
   and becomes undone
it might lash out
in a burning sting
from the shock of
             the lexicon
that fervor brings
but then rage will
melt upon our lips
in satin threads
                 of fire
that burn their tips
and no temporary storm
will declare our pain
in language sacred,
and then
               profane
I'd rather bind
my lips to yours
let the waves rise up
           on speech's shores
let the tides of
forgiveness
spill out in phrases
as the moon whispers
bliss in hidden phases
and we'll forget our
periods and commas
and grammatical structures
as polished vernacular
      turns to animal lustre
as we slide to the floor
verbal cannons unfired,
                             unheard
finally at
     a loss for
             words

One thing that poetry

Has taught me outright

Is you can't beat the word

When it's put into rhyme

Where things may start out dull

Changing with time

Before you know

They sparkle and shine

As they weave in and out

Of poetic word play

Silver in tongue

With the gold they create

Nothing astounds

Or even comes close

As poetry sounds

In the rhyming word