i can only write of you,
and you will live here with me
for as long as my hands can hold a pen

you meet her,
and all the wars inside you grow silent
you love her,
and that's when you realize,
she's the only thing
worth the pain of ****** hands

I can write words that wrap around her skin
words that slip deep inside her mind
words that can push deep within her
against slick, receptive flesh
but she is no poem
not metered or unstructured
no words can say who she is
*for she is more
far more
than even the miracle of words