Golden Angel

The afternoon light on your hair
casts shades of honey and gold.
It runs across your tanned skin,
inviting me, begging me to touch it.
Your lips part against mine with confidence,
strength, and a pressure that lets me know
that you need me, so I press back with an answer.
Your fingers brush me with the same purpose
and surety as when you strum your guitar.
The resonance seeping into my skin,
breaking my heart, and mending it all in one chord.
Your eyes are clear and true, all my answers
I can find laying on the cool surface.
I press myself into your love, your heat,
and I feel safe, I feel at home. A haven
that is your arms. Hold me please,
because you are my everything.


With And Without Music

With my head on your heart you tell me what’s on your mind. 
I hold very still, my hand tightening its grip on your shirt. 
When you speak of us not being together, my heart convulses.
A physical ache runs through my body and I realize then
That if you left me I would break. You have the power
To rip my heart out completely and I have this dark, nagging feeling
That you will.
Love, I don’t know how to verbally express the effect you have 
On this lone soul of mine. Be honest with your words, and please
Don’t give them out freely. Be honest in your touch and want me
For the spirit I am and the spirit I am growing to be. There is a 
Physical and emotional obsession that connects your heart to mine. 
I hope you understand the ability I have to love someone fully, 
And I will.
When you left that night I felt so selfish. I want to keep you all to myself. 
I want to be your breath, your craving, your heroin, and your love.
I want to build you up till you realize the truth: that you are unstoppable.
You are an immovable force, a pillar of strength, a god under construction. 
To grasp your hand is bliss. When you hold me, I fall into you indefinitely.
When you kiss me so softly, when you sing, I know that we can make it.
And we will.
Please forgive my insecurities and please forgive my intrusion in your life.
I know I can’t express myself clearly with words from my mouth, so 
Please accept this prose as an expression of my love. This is my way
Of singing to you. I hope you hear the rhythm that starts with my 
Heart beat, and I hope you hear the melody that carries through my veins
To reach your ears; the forte and pianissimo and the building crescendo
To the fermata that holds your heart.


You Sing, I Write

Your songs run though my head like an endless track.
Your voice is the only sound I want to hear.
My fingertips trace the curves of your face
Down to the veins of your arms,
Those arms that pull me in so near.

Take me away when I need it most.
My shining beacon, my rescuer, my hero.
Away to a quiet place where I don’t have to be scared
And make the dark things turn away.
With you is the safest place I know.

The way you smile and the way you laugh
Make my heart beat like never before.
I’d do anything to be the one you love,
And even though your words may scare me
They come from the lips I adore.

Please be sincere and please be truthful.
This jaded heart has more than its share of tears.
I want to give you all that I can,
I’ll give all the broken parts to you,
We can put them together and see how it fares.

Now lay your head on to my heart and listen.
There are secrets there I want to tell.
Let my love sway you like the ocean, dear.
Let it rock you to a gentle sleep
As my heart whispers “How fast I fell.”


The Collector

Burning through your veins until you
want me there. Need me there. I am there.
Another one, still beating and bloody
torn from his chest.
You're not getting it back.
I wrap my hand around your heart and squeeze.
Severing the wiry chord connecting us.
You fall to your knees-
and then I'm gone.
Lingering in the form of a sent, a breeze,
a color, an ache.
I save you. I put you with the others.
I lock you in my box of hearts.


The Death and Birth of Beauty

Beautiful things. 
I use to write beautiful things. 
Words tangled together into an intricate vine 
dripping down and across the paper. 
Freehand flowing of hurt and passion and growing. 
Growing into the thing I am now. 
Now, beautiful things do not grace my hand,
they do not fill my soul constantly as they once did,
teasing the back of the mind till I pull them out
with a pen
or blood
Now I feel like I must force the birth of something 
not fully formed.
Thoughts, love, words escape me now. Yet,
I found a way, a glimmer, a gleam,
a muse, a pure inspiration.
Its love helps me.
Its love helps me.


The Pier Lights

Bare feet in the dark
trekking across the cold sand.
Shapes of relentless seagulls swoop and scurry,
and I can barely see.
I know I'm getting closer and soon
I feel the cold water rush over my toes.
It pulls back again
taking my foundation
along with it.
I follow it forward and stand
knee deep in the black
A thrill of fear runs down my back
as I feel the sea monsters
and creepy crawlies of the sea
staring at me, waiting to
pull me under.
I look back and can see your silhouette
in the light of the ferris wheel,
Looking up, I see the stars,
focusing till the next
icy wave brings me back
to earth.
I run back to your arms.
We listen to the ocean roar in the black night
as I feel your lips.


Bliss is a Word

We dance around the word like ignorant fairies,
touching it lightly with a foot or a finger.
A word with promise - a word with commitment,
the fairies are too unsure, too hesitant.
Give me a resounding affirmation -
one where there is no way I can ignore it,
dance about it, skirt around it.
Not sure if I'm ready to hear the word -
but I refuse to ignore it.



Echo Tare

His wings of pale gold glimmer with arms outreached to her,
Echo Tare will always reach back.

Glancing back through the white clouds with a smile so bright,
Echo Tare will always smile back.

Perfect lips part to form the three most longed for words,
Echo Tare will always reply the same.

Golden ring of laughter comes from deep within his solid frame,
Echo Tare will always laugh back.

Forbidden, dark deeds done out of an act of love,
Echo Tare will always follow.

Just judgment rains harshly across his back,
Echo Tare will always share the pain.

With one last warm breath, his lovely eyes close indefinitely,
Echo Tare can not follow,

Echo Tare can not cry,

Echo Tare will always want to follow

her golden love into the dark.




Eyes open once, twice. Stare hard at the eyes staring back.
Those eyes are cold, those eyes are sharp.
They mock me and repel me.
Entice and claw at me.
Littering my brain with shadows.
Shadows that start to slide, creep, edge closer,
and I'm surrounded.
Those eyes make me remember
all the things I must forget.
I need to.
They are coming closer.
Those eyes laugh,
those eyes are cold,
those eyes aren't mine.
Not anymore.




She is a canvas.
And when I say 
I really mean 
And when I say 
I mean
We are 
hypnotized into thinking 
So if I really means 
then We means
So when I say 
I mean
So what I'm trying to say is-
She is a canvas.



Pool Particles

There are leaves at the bottom of the pool
like silver sand sharks.
They only move with the rippling water,
poised in fake action, looking for unsuspecting pool particles.
I want to know what it would feel like
to lay at the bottom of a pool or a lake, or the ocean,
and look up into the distorted sun.
Motionless except for the wave of my hair billowing around me.
Frozen in time, listening to the profound silence.
Nothing on the brain.
Nothing on the brain.