She sat in the artist's warehouse
listening to the quick drip drops of fresh rain
becoming polluted as they passed through rusted drains
and lightly onto ***-holed puddles filled with crushed cigarettes.
She let her warm breath
spool into the air and fill the silence,
she closed her eyes, smiled,
a private moment to recall
what made her smile,
what made her sit in the artist's warehouse writing poetry
rhymes about how light her heart felt,
how clean and fresh the air she breathed was,
how she couldn't keep herself from smiling
when she thought of him,
how he touched her,
looked at her,
how he breathed into her
an earth shattering exhileration
of posisbility, curiosity, fascination
and unexpected livlihood....
She opened her eyes
and caught her breath,
as she did every time
she thought of him
and how he made her feel.
She uncrossed her legs
threw back her head
and came one step closer
to understanding what it was
she wanted
for her heart.

I stand amidst blue eyes.
Hearts, flowers, life, tower around my soles. Creation obeys my pattern.
Unending hills in the cliffsides of my sights' peak silence my dreams, blinding my imagination's capacity. Blinding my livlihood's achievments. Blinding me.
Wind throws growth off coarse. I feel the cold air stain my scars. I feel the life dissipate through my eyes and arms.
Never-ending hate drowns my guilt, proving the impossible to be impossible. Ice, fire, gravel wounds me. Their wounds fuel what remain.
You stand amidst brown eyes.
Ashes, thorns, death, tower around your souls. Creation obeys your pattern.