I have this broken faucet
and it seems to drip. . . On my heart. . .
and when I open my mouth
the echoes of emptiness
paint the walls with sorrow
in the room where we once laid
and those naked shadows
stood up from the floor

in your heart
a midlife storm
echoed of love and lies

I believed in your passion
and twisted myself inside it
gorged myself on you
naked flesh and naked fears

needed you
like you wanted me to
and filled your emptiness with my own
but when those storm clouds cleared
and you removed my hand
from that heart
I could see your body was a coat of razor's

I walked outside
hand's covered in blood
washed them in the rain
and only the stains are left to remind me
that if I don't fix this broken faucet
I just might drowned in a flood. . . Without you. . .

I haven't felt in days.

Forgetting to set fire to hoops I jump through.

Thoughts of you like clouds of smoke on the horizon.

Never catching that sunset.

And you Night, so feeble.

Your womb is the only comforting thing I remember.

you gentle beauty
with eyes of piercing amber
cut through the night like a knife
you quite gem
with no need for backdoor dusk bathed sun dresses
your naked skin shattered windows
to let in the rain
so hard you came falling
like to touch you would brake me
would you organize my organs?
or the thoughts I never spoke?

dream with me
and dig those nails into my spine
draw a sliver line
between me and that dreamlike warmth
spread that rib cage wide
and let me inside
that o so feeble heart
beat beat beat my head in two
until I find no use for the words I speak
or this body that quakes
when you're so near mine

1.
your body was a canvas
I swallowed paint brushes
of reds and blues
I have purple skin
I try to draw the things inside of me
my quite heart
and jagged bones
cutting their way from out of me
your body was a canvas
I tired to paint its beauty

2.**
I kissed your rain
as we watched the colors drip from our skin
and fill the cracks of the sidewalks
quietly smoothing out the edges of our souls
with every slip and every drip of tongue
GOD! I want to know if your breast plate can scream like Kurt Cobain
or if your fingers are piano keys
and every time you hold me I swear I can hear Beethoven's
Moonlight Sonata

3.
in that rain
we tried to wash the color off our skin
and shutter amidst the pale
but the color was too bright
and this love
too warm.

I handed you a flower
told you
this is my whole body

you planted it in the garden
around your lungs

and pretend like it didn't have the same name
or sang the same songs
the same ones I use to sing

on the nights you try not to hear them
it still makes you ponder
on how much
those flowers still haunt you

or how little
you wish you would sing
out loud...