You have softer hands than I,
An amusing touch.
And your voice reverberates in
my head like a bell.
I wait for every word,
already knowing whats to come.
You ghosts upon my shoulders,
I've never broken our grasp.

Fumbling through his pockets
Sore fingers grasping wildly
He procures his kerchief
Dabs the edges, pats them dry

And the wind blows softly
Ruffles her strong hair
Tossed waves of auburn
Gentle to see

Sun-lit skin, gilded bold
Broken never, smoothness
Fashioned hands, slender fingers
Burgundy eyes, deep and deeper

And the old form sat ragged
Tears spilling onto yellowed photos
"I'll see you soon, I'll see you soon,
My young, young love."

Artists we
     do knit and twine
     our heartstrings into words,
Plucking chords
     to ***** the skin
     so we bleed upon the page,
Hardly cope
     but only feel
     the sorrow paramount,
I reason none
     but just to paint
     with songs of flying birds.

I happened upon eternity,
But I did not drink from her cool waters.
For a lifetime in this skin,
Is long enough for my brittle soul.

Pages dusted in ink
Pages tattooed in blood
Pictures of a moment
Beyond the context clues
Beyond the plausible facades
Truest thoughts riddled in rhyme
Purest line wrapped in pencil shavings
Sense the deep
And look far beyond the page
Past the ink
Past the blood
Past the rhyme
Past the line
View me as I am
See the heart no one knows
Find my bones buried
Among the twists and twirls
Hunt me
Pull me out
Taste what only I can provide
But allow me to see
Your stains
Your spills
Let me breath in your fears
Let me hear your groans
Show me your beautiful bones
And I will wrap my arms around you
In all the moments
I will hold
In all the moments
You will know
I will pull you past your dusted pages
I will see you beyond your bloodied text
I will sense beyond the modest rhyme
I will taste your solitary art
I will know you
You will know me
Let us peep at each others pages