I am the remains of you.
a crater in human form
from my limbs smoke erupts, snaking through pores
filling the air with the scent of shame and
discontent.
I am the impact point.
of a thousand glass shards spiralling
through air, sea and raining down into
our eyes
I am ground zero.
cracked and flaked islands of forgetful comments
compliments within razor wire conversations.
I am your living breathing monument.
painfully decorated and sculpted
to remind you
we imprint what makes us, us
and the worst is sometimes

What we see clearest.

Her pale porcelain skin scorched my mind
its imprint was all I could see
Such innocent hidden behind a jaded mind
Such beauty underneath

Her immaculate body longing to be smeared by my finger tips
Holding her close, keeping her safe, in suspended bliss
SAFETY it was found that night, right between her legs
Like trees aching for light, stretched to the sky, she begs

Inquiring on journeys before embark
her imprint was left on me
seeing  beauty in every cut and every mark
Such artistry to be seen    
  
I could deal with near pitch black, as long as there was enough light to dance, and glisten off her angelic eyes
SAFETY it was found that night, right between her thighs

We ink the words till the thoughts dry,
             and what is left is an imprint on
                               paper of what is now an echo.

i sometimes hope
that i plague your mind
as often as you take over my own

because you are the only
consistent thought i have

and though youve become
more like a stain than a memory

ill never wash myself again
as long as your imprint
remains on my body

Elusive moon beckons dark currents,
     sand's sparkling pageantry  
             drifts out midst frothing tide,
submerging lover's imprints 'neath
     the realm of alluring seascape illusions

Whispers arise from the sidewalks.
There are footprints stained into
The concrete where my feet gently stand.
Glancing into the distance,
I realize that many people have walked this path before.
Once I thought that I was the only one.
These people, were they once as broken as I am?
Do any of these faded souls still stroll
Down this cracked path, as I do?
These voices whispering into my head
Are telling me that I shouldn't be here.
This is the wrong path to take.
Like I always have, and always will,
I have ignored their requests and continued with my journey.
The stars are behind clouds tonight.
There is no light in the sky,
But there is in fact a bright image
At the end of this broken road.
Footsteps are slowing down.
Prints of prescience are turning around.
Should I continue, or should I twist my posture
And make my way back to the beginning?
Should I listen to those voices that have warned me?
My left foot seeps into the ground once more,
Before I make my decision.