At Last My Pen Has Found Her
She breathes soft, with parted lips,
And I'm holding her lungs
As she dreams,
Taking drags of her exhales and
Twirling her secrets with my fingers,
Conducting a ballad for ghosts.
And the rhythm matches her pulse.
And I can't stop taking shots
That smell like her hair,
closing my eyes around the memory of this.
Trying to zipper her heartbeats into me.
If only secrets could fall dead like fall,
I would walk walk
On the voices of nightmares,
And squish fireflies into her hair,
so her dreams can make the light
But the strands grazed by my touch
hide even the brightest of dawns.
And the morning will erase it all.
And show the guts matted on her skull.
And when it rains, I'll say a prayer,
For innocence as it's washed
Into the dirt,
Like moonlight turned
Streaking across the body of earth
As though to stitch the wound.
There will be
A canyon reflecting her face,
A reminder for angels that it is possible
And I'm drunk
On the tears she plucked from her heart,
tripping like those who sleep in alleys,
And I will join them.
And live off
The electronic clicks she makes
When she blinks.
Because my hands
Crave that moment
Of eyelids eclipsing sun,
Of lashes that blanket
And drown the sound of wolves
As they hold tongue,
Standing in awe
Of her footprints, deciding
that they followed the wrong trail,
Chasing the kill,
And missing flower.
I stand unsurprised,
Caressing the shadow
As she replaces dawn
So I will build a pulpit in my heart
And tell the tale of fingertip
And flesh until I believe
That her outline
Makes perfect sense
Of the havoc,
Chapter and verse pinpointing treasure.
Sailing to discover
places lost long ago.
Where my death becomes a rudder
And guides me past the tides
As all my intention
snakes along the shore,
hoping to pull her into me,
That there would be no blade of sand
And if only for a while
my current would carry
her weightless into the deep.
And our love will salt the sea,
and she will break the fangs of sharks
to a dust she'll wear as glitter,
and we will dig beneath the ocean
and I will shatter coral and stone
to clear the currents,
and watch my blood become clear
as it fades like smoke into the liquid.
And we will chew the rust of treasure
as decay creeps like mercy
over the surface of coin and crown,
because down here,
everything will fade beneath her,
and her splendor
will make every sunken ship
forfeit hope of rescue,
for who would dig further
than her reflection?
So I will sever the neck
that is not there,
and orphan the octopus
for need of ink dark enough
to make a map,
that her eyes would see the path to shore.
and the massacre will lead her to safety.
And I will drag her beyond horizon
to a place where rescue is impossible.
Where she will tame volcanoes with a smirk,
where she will bleed the magic of paradise
like a vein needing rest,
an undoing of logic into mayhem.
I will trap that conquered earth
into my heart,
she will resurrect sand to stone
by merely looking,
I only hope,
to be caught within the gaze.
And when it's too dark to see,
I'll connect the dots hanging from heaven
as stars that dangle
like a necklace around an angels throat,
and follow her freckles
into the sky,
to a place where everything
reminds me of her face.
She'll pretend she doesn't notice,
but I will rip the canopy of clouds
until she has room to stand above it,
the shadow of her is a premonition
of all that shines.
And from this perch,
she will rain down love with furry,
and scratch the dirt with empathy,
and I will stand in awe
as all her prayers change
from vapor to concrete.
And I'll become a scribe,
using my skin in place of parchment,
writing the saga of her soul,
where no beating chest fails,
and the screams of devils flee
the halos raining down from her eyelids.
And death would beg for mercy,
fearful of a world that bends
beyond reason and doubt.
And we will follow her tears
back into the soil,
like starting over,
and her footprints will give way to dawn,
and she will tell the broken
how blemish became beacon,
and every little belly will feast
on ink and blood and broken soil,
and every mother would know
the secrets that pierce heaven,
and every babe would drink
like tomorrow is certain,
and every father would rise
like blood in water until the smoke
and she would carve her tombstone
telling of a journey that took her
beyond the brink of death
into an abyss where heaven
waits in such a heart as hers.
And I will hang my sins until they die,
until every attempt to breathe
reminds me of her sleeping
soft within my arms,
dreaming of a day when all these words
awaken and her hope becomes reality.
I have no knowledge of what will wake
with us in the morning,
but I pretend that whatever it is,
will in some way look like her.
But she breathes soft,
and my hands are full
and my eyes are losing focus,
music beginning to fade within me,
I know the world inside her
will fall before she wakes.
But she's talking in her sleep,
and I hear it all, like learning a language
I'm not ready for.
And soon, her dreams will become braille
and I'll reach for it as one blind,
and my hands will trace her cheeks
and try to learn the pattern of her lips
as they make a map bright enough
to lead me into safety.