Her essence like a fleeting dream
                        floating through the ether of spacetime and
            grasping my heart so ******-y

Perfection wrapped in satin, bow down
independent queen
no need for a crown
she knows she's my everything
and she speaks to me like no one else
no other being alive, just her in the moment
and she bestows upon me
an illustrious golden token

            A being angelic, a punisher of poets
                        but a pen a weapon, a paper a field
            My mind a war of how you make me feel

against the blanket of black
move swiftly
like an aruarian dance
"Come with me" she whispers
and yanks the strings
that bind me to her
she's unforgiving, hands around my words
and we form a fragile melody
with us so valiant, we concur

Maybe I hear the silence of the stars on the arch of my heart,
maybe you'll sail on waves of agitated times, keeping us apart.
Maybe the bird's chatter is resounding, whispering my name,
maybe you'll travel through dark shadows, playing Satan's game.

Maybe every dream in life begins with a romantic dreamer,
maybe Love is sleeping its hard, tormenting sleep of a redeemer.
Maybe you wander in my thoughts, and I, through your mind,
maybe we strip off from our emotions without being fined.

Maybe my heart is singing for you on high musical notes,
maybe my nights became days on the instrumental boats.
Maybe I'm a human who has many tattoos on her soul,
maybe in life, I went through storm, agony, without any goal.

Maybe my expectations are limping in front of the endless fears,
maybe life's harshness is pushing my burdened shoulders in tears.
Maybe your sweet soul wants to speak to me in gentle words,
maybe my fate will take-off on its flight, resembling birds.

Maybe I will not tear any page from the big book of my life,
maybe I'll forget the past and look at the good parts, without a strife.
Maybe life has no subtitles at all and perhaps I need a dream,
maybe to give me an illustration about how it's like in heaven's team.

Maybe your soul is searching in me just a sweet isolation,
maybe the reality is another and with us in a long litigation.
Maybe we are just simple actors in life's longest play,
maybe we should be more careful and don't forget to pray.

Maybe I feel my legs strongly tight up, with no chance to run,
maybe I don't want any help, or to be indebted to someone.
Maybe I want to measure the happiness in tiny short moments,
maybe I'm tired of receiving just words and compliments.

Maybe the smile of your heart gives to my soul a new chance,
maybe I need a bit of courage to accept another avalanche.
Maybe in my soul, I feel like dying, because maybe I'm in love,
maybe I feel more, but I'm afraid to admit all I've written above.

He's staring intently
                                                  at the task in hand
incomplete masterpiece
                                                 outlined (a deep black)
bitten lip;
                                                 - out of focus
I adoring His own
                                              magnum opus
hands;
ache to trace
                                             sharp jawline; a
defined collarbone-
                                            ridges and valleys
…..Gravitating back
                                           he holds it up for approval
dimpled smile;
                                               breaking dawn

                            "Perfect"
                     (hear myself whisper)
closer now, frozen tide
                                             a whiff of the ocean
                        tsunamis in my heart ; waves crashing

          (but I wasnt talking about the sketch)

Raining within the theaters
With wounds I was given new life
With words pervading no meaning
A mute sound would escape
The lips never to speak
Yet they moved constantly
Buried in the weeds
Returned to natures ocean
A maze of divinity
The miraculous promotion
I float at the feet of a god

Get a job,
a husband or wife.
Make yourself comfortable
in your own life.
So they tell me
or would have told me
if they were still alive.
But they are dying slowly
by the magic pills.
They are no longer there
to protect and care.
I no longer have devils
that whisper and scream.
They can do both
but now they are doing non.
And I can see myself having fun,
not caring or staring
into nothingness.
Yet it leaves me in mourning
to know they are about to die.
Maybe if I hold on a little longer
I won't be lonely and then find myself
a job, husband or wife.

Spilling your coal black insides
In coal black ink,
Into a snow white sheet.

Your twisted coal black
Little cunning friends
All have the same breath.

Some are demons,
Some are whispers,
And one of them is death.


-- Eleanor

you whisper something in my ear,
your body is so close to mine,
it turns me deaf.
i ask you to repeat,
this time i hear you
but every cell in my body
is filled with desire,
i crave you close so
i pretend that i didnt hear you,
again.