This poem
Is like
My fingertips
In words
Dancing across
Your ribcage
As you
Are sleeping
My minds
Whispering pleasure
Of things
I imagine
To be
One thing
Despite their
Being another
This poem
Is like
My fingertips
In words
Dancing across
Your ribcage
As you
Are sleeping
My minds
Whispering pleasure
Of things
I imagine
To be
One thing
Despite their
Being another
It takes but one
Stone whether it be
Flat or round to
Cause something to change
The stone is the
Cause and its shape
Is its effect flat
Causes ripples as it
Skims where as round
Causes landslides and avalanches
Flat is akin to
Lying a calculated entertainment
Whereas round is akin
To truth causing abject
Destruction and also cleansing
In its roaring wake
It is in silence
When the absence of
Love roars its loudest
A cacophony of solitude
Echoing thundering but still
A deep dark stillness
Like a moist cave
Tunneled deep into mountains
There for one thing
Only to hide from
The monsters and beasts
Of my bad decisions
Staving off the hunger
Of loneliness and desperation
I do know who
And I know why
What I don’t know
Is where and when
Much like the fall
Knows that winter comes
But not knowing when
It readies itself by
Shedding summers last hurrah
As I too remove
The last summer romance
Donning my solace’s overcoat
Love is like a
Firefly that we capture
With the hearts net
And that unlike those
In the wild never
Stop flickering until at
Last we eventually do
But they are released
Back into the wild
Flickering again until caught
Illuminating someone else’s heart