I like pens that bleed
Ink that smears
Girls with scars
Broken parts
***** clothes
Stained sheets
The hint of blood
The taste of lust
The smells of love
Nights through morning
Mornings to night
Suns that sleep
Moons that dream
And all the pretty
You hide underneath
Those pretty
Pretty
Pretty things

I have never stuttered in pen
misspoken in ink
or choked in my writing
the way I do
whenever I speak
my fingertips always know
the right words to say
my tongue is still learning

Your delicate face
has taken residence
in my deepest dreams
eyes the color of cappuccino
with lengthy raven curls
upon your bronzed skin
and your smile
as beautiful
as the morning sun
may I never wake again

You are like shards
Of broken glass
That I am still picking out of my skin.

Everytime I think you're gone,
I shift a little
And feel more pieces of you
Working their way in.