Tumultuous beauty
Like raging waters
Falling over vast cliffs
Into basins of whirlpools

And billowing monoliths
Of dark clouds rushing past
All within a container
Of your human flesh

Droplets of red
Splatter across
The room
Pooling into puddles
O, the horrors
A messy scene
As I slice into

The strawberries

No poet is dead
If the poet is read.
Between life and death
There is a reality
Beyond reality, it seems.
Poets live on
If only in a reader's dreams.

The Truth is often painful
Yet, truth is required.
We must face it head-on
For it cannot be denied.

When we look into an abyss
We see faces looking back.
Our humanity must accept
Some faces are long gone.

Our duty is to remember.

Back to you,
I will come back to you
If you will come back to me.
And we can meet

In-between.

Somewhere in the middle
Of love with no regret,
And promise to forgive
And to forget.

When I see you my heart is full as it expands.
It bursts open like an overripe pomegranate.
And I flush with heat as you touch my hand.
My emotions spill out like the ruby-red seeds
Dropping from opened fruit.  Sweet the taste,
As I feed you pieces of heart from my own hand.

May my ribbons of passion
Tie you up in pleasures
And bind your heart to mine.

Though we tangle each time
With sweet kisses that toy
With one another's hearts.

Bound through struggle
That knot the ribbons tighter
With each hand, lips, touch

And are fused each to each in the joys of pleasure.