Someone told me
our bodies contain
enough carbon to make 900 pencils
ending it with
"you can write with your body"

First, let my body meet yours
let our fingertips touch
and let our bodies
yearn to start
some good writing
tease our carbons
to create, to begin
to fall
to blend
to melt

Now darling
the only way I'd begin a poem
is with you
starting with a kiss
a capital kiss
for the first letter
of the first word
should be bold
and beautiful
silent but loud

The sentences my body start
yours finish
no matter how long
"run on's", fragmented they are
you start I finish,
I start you finish

Interrupted by breaths
gasping for life, inhaling
the souls of muses
and exhaling such beautiful
poetry, such deep writing
that only our bodies know how
to create, how to read, how to vocalize
how to share

Stanzas interrupted by moans
that sing and hum the hymns
of poetry that cannot be
embodied in words
moans that orchestrate
symphonies
leading our bodies
to dance
to love
to enjoy
such intensity
that my pencils fail at
capturing

Let my body write with yours
and re-write the ways of love
edit, proofread, scratch, claw
mark and re-create
new ways of falling
of loving, of sighing
let my body write with yours
and bask under
such powerful chemistry
where carbon burns
And flames
ignite

Let's write

I have studied the bruises on my legs,
Each one unique in it's own way like snowflakes but not as beautiful.
Not only are my legs filled with these blots of discoloration, they fill me as well.
My stomach aches with the touch of your hand.
My Lungs wince with the scent of your skin.
My heart is slowly caving in on itself with the intent of your every word.
And my brain,
Oh my brain, is being trapped in its own cloudy judgment that your every being created
Leaving me and my emotions so it dismembered that there is nothing left.
Only little particles of dust that I only beg that you breathe in.
So that I can destroy every bit of your insides, just as you did mine.

Impression or suppression
an utmost subconscious decision
or an utmost practiced precision?
to cover her natural moving canvas
so he can see the physical bliss
never mind the festering dangers
that breed within her heart's cancers
until the day her painted face
is defied by time and space
of an old ancestral rival
time when death itself in arrival
comes and leaves none in its wake
evangelism; Cosmetics' new grace
offered at every corner and place
'that you must accept me or be ugly'
if she only knew
beauty fades like hubbly
the self conscious issues would be few.

It's always like this
We fight, kiss, makeup
Cries from both of our lungs
We **** each other when bodies touch
Like mourn less regret, we say no words
Our understanding lies just under sheets but it never escapes
Like caged words trying to break out of teeth
The only chemistry we have is alone in a dark room
Where no words are said and the only sound is flesh
We love our bodies not our minds
Like brittle flowers that bloom together, roots intertwined
Good night, good morning, a vicious cycle that has no end
But we've killed our fair share of souls
It's time to end this mess