I sit on the step
And draw
The cold around me
Like a blanket,
Savouring the numbness
And the heat
That begins within.
Swallowed by the night
Drunk on wine
And stars.
Hot tears on cold cheeks.
Seasoning for
Chapped lips
Stinging
Bringing fresh tears.
I take refuge
In the silence,
Under the gaze of
Sympathetic eyes.
My friends.
My constant companions.
Drunk on wine
And stars.

Your body is a work of art.
And I have just recently become
A connoisseur.

The drip of water down the water spout
The parade of white fluffs drifting about
The ball of the pen skating across
The flow of ink calling the shots
The clack of heels on the tiled hall
The scurrying of a roach up the wall
The wail of a child sickened by chocolate
The scowl of the mother for such racket
The round of applause after a performance
The snores of the old couple sitting dormant
The ruffling of pages in a quiet library
The thundering chew of a red cranberry
The mourning of a family huddled at a wake
The birthday song sung as he blows on the cake
The flap of nestling wings on its first attempt
The hawk’s call during a sweeping steep descent
The pulsating green beep of heart monitors
The screech that follows when the beat falters
The smooch of lips upon an orange sunset
The ring of wedding bells they'll never forget
The Earth a rich and colorful place
The Earth a blue speck floating in space

This poem is like one large knot.
I'm failing to unravel my thoughts;
Struggling to get my point across.

This poem isn't right.
Mulling the feelings over all night.
Revising only to continue to revise.

This poem isn't what I want it to be.
Typing it out before pressing delete.
Leaving each line incompl-