the red paint upon my nails is fading, cracking, chipping away like my once ever-flowing spirit.

i need rest; a trickling stream in a dark and quiet wood.
i need magic, the kind that tingles the under side of the ribs.
i need peace, a light, a hot bubble bath to scrape away these sensations of exhaustion and ingrained filth, which seem sewn within my marrow, and underneath my eye lids.

but, your peace, i can take it.
i can **** it in through a straw of sunlight you decided to shine upon me.
i can absorb it through a smile,
interpret it through the way a small child plays in the sand.

you are my everlasting, never-wanting peace;
a body from which contentment is drawn, and beauty is mirrored.
you are silence, a dream within a dream, of which i know is real.
truth. the purity of which deserves eternal admiration, awe, and praise.

let it be that i drink of your spirit,
inhale your light,
eat of your manna.

you, a one who is so great,
you, and only you, are my heart's desire.