Drink me in like a crackle of fresh air,
Water in your bloodstream
Pumping through your veins.

Hold me like a memory
Apparition translucency,
Stuck in a head bobbing reverie,
A constant thought aching at the brain.

Read my heart like an open book
Chapters writ in braille,
So you can feel me in every word to scale.
Carry the weight like glutton
Holding the depths like mountains.
Straining with the heaviness of a world
Perched upon tired shoulders.

Let my voice kiss the crook of your ear
Hear me like a songbird,
Chirping incessantly all the things you wanna hear;

But heed my battle cry,
As a ****** of me crowing
Is a battle axe hewing foeman in the distance
Protecting you like a visage
An image, my goddess.

I’ll be a vessel,
To hold you in close
A home for your greatness
Allow me to be your host.

Sip of my wine like it’s vintage aged
Play my heart strings like a harpsichord
And I’ll join with the violin.

Candle lit, while warming by the pyre.
Won’t you open me bisectionally
And show me your desire?

We coalesce,
I feel you surrendering
As we levitate endlessly
Effervescent fluidity,
Where do you begin and I end?

Does it even matter in the end?
Coalesce with me.
Until the words we speak
Become reality.

I’ll love until I am dissolved
A ghost in spirits you drink to
Salve
A memory you hate.

Do you want to see the sunrise over the sky
Like tangerine orange splashed against a sea of peach and lilac?
Well I know a place where we can watch the moon flirt with the daylight
Just take my hand, and I’ll guide you through a wonderland

Where we can see the stars,
Bloom from the verdant stems
Pink and white spread wide,
And we can touch the petals of its points
Feel the dew drops hydrate your fingertips
Once we go through the thick of this

Watch the peonies open their bloom
Fluffy maroon and white beds for bees
As they sit so beautifully,
Ants resting on the eaves of leaves
Pleased by their workmanship to please
Eager eyes in your gasping maw
So surprised, to see this in awe
Well I surmise, you’ll love the way that the colors gleam.

Here where dahlias dance
To the very brisk of a morning breeze
Perfect symmetry blossomed in telemetry
We can count the layers, lost in a labyrinth
Amazed by the scent carried by a zephyr
Ticking the senses, and yet there’s more to the journey
As hydrangeas in blue and pink flourish,
Bush cover for arboreal critters,
Grasping seed and nuts to scurry off into the umbra.

But nothing brings me clarity
Nothing screams sincerity
Quite like the tea leaf rarity,
Of the conclave of peach colors swirling
Timeless in a capsule of a lover’s first gift
A painted, watercolor masterpiece,
Pink layers over yellow, and white,
Shades of coral and purple highlight the light
It’s in this decadence I could eat the petals
And in recompense maybe I’ll bloom as pretty too
As we end our morning glory
Under the thorn-capped bushel
Of roses, ala peach swirls.

If you close your eyes and immerse yourself in colors,
What shades would define you?
Perhaps carnation pink, robin’s egg blue,
A dark violet, or a wine-flavored maroon?

What would you paint with your limbs?
Authoring an impression upon the splash,
Creating a crude broad-stroke portrait,
Highlighting temperance,
Or showing something beyond the surface of spackled acrylics?

Show them vibrancy,
Like neon under a black light,
Or dark and *****,
With bokeh bubbles and lush verdant forests.

Take to your inkwells,
Lay out the papyrus,
And calligraphy fancied letters, or scribbled jargon.
Speak the words to grant you power,
Stain the dotted lines with your truth,
And tell secrets kissed between the pages.
Show the world you live in!
You are alive!
You matter!

Let your hands take clay and shape golems
Or vases to hold perennials.
Create characters in heaps of it,
Scored and kiln-fired,
Showing them statues yet seen—
Modern marvels sans marble.

Nothing can stop you,
You of stardust and magic,
You of survived tragedies and missteps,
You of overcome travesty, health scares, and suffering.
You are an artist, the truly free.

You hurt me with hands that once healed,
and still, I kiss the wounds you leave behind.

You are my poison and my prayer.
A god I can’t stop kneeling for,
even as the altar crumbles under me.

We are saints of suffering,
bound not by grace,
but by the echo of every scream we swallowed,
just to stay.


The silence.
The sweetness that comes too late
and still tastes like heaven.
I know the cage,
and I decorate it in your name.
Call it temple.
Call it home.

You say you love me
in the same breath that cuts me.
And I believe you.
Not because it’s true,
but because it has to be.
Because if it isn’t,
then what am I left with
but ruin?