Sometimes
before you arrive
I imagine the drive
the dusty winds
roads blown sand blind
the breath hot desert
red upon your back
the drown of dripping sweat
a mirage, a swimming lake
an oasis, of mind escape
how you travel as saguaro fields fly by.

She's in the kitchen
(close the door)
just mixin' up some metaphor;
a true conundrum
through and through
and through to me and thus to you.

Her humble hunger
(forest's slumber)
thunders 'neath a wilting tune;
tuned to too many
to count without
a thought within.

She must profess
(but shall confess)
to any who will listen;
closely she holds
a tragic history
mostly mystery to most.

She solves my soul
(I deny that hole)
which she still fills;
overflowing always
with such unrelenting joy
that is My Love.

Fix your ink upon my brow
Maybe I am nothing now
Your signature upon my curves
Please give to me what I deserve
Give to me with messy hand
All the words that you have planned
Please tell to me precisely how
You'll make me more than nothing now

I want my words to be beautiful.
Beautiful like yours.
I want to see ordinary things,
Find the magic in them,
And put the magic on a page, for everyone to understand.

I want to have a way with words.
I want every poem of mine
To become a masterpiece.
Just like yours.

I am not broken.

But you are.

You see the world through pain,
And pain makes the colors brighter.
It makes the value of feelings
Climb higher.

Sometimes I wonder
If I should be broken like you
If I want my words to resonate
Like yours.

Sometimes I wonder,
If it will be truly worth it
In the end.

I wonder what it will be like,
To cut myself up to pour out the beauty inside me.

Just like you.

I imagine that you
Raise the blade
Slice your feelings open
And write your masterpiece
In red.

I patched the sky in wishes,
White birds flew by.
I prayed to rain in stitches,
Puddles bubbled alive.
I saw a lone flower drinking,
And said I see you shine.
I prayed to the stars blinking,
And offered my blood to moon.