I'll draw you in by drawing pictures with my words. Lay back and close your eyes and let the wind on my fingers do the talking and feeling. You know that I know how to do things that only you thought you knew how to do.

Pieces and things of what we used to be turn to ash. Let's begin again with the promises pulling you forward-I'll be your architect of destruction. I had in mind to trace your hemline with cloud caverns, stretching dip kisses and moon stealing. A pocket full of diamonds but holes in my heart and my hands know what to do when you take over my mind. How the words run away to you only.

I follow, for they know better than I what I need the most to survive (soft sherry fleece lined). Winter clouds cover my breath. Brushed hearts taste our fireplace. Marshmallow kisses. If only you knew, what love was you would have the scars to show for it: behind your ears and on lips, on elbows and wrists, at your forehead and knees. These hidden places I know the most.

Those piano fingers bleed me from the inside, so let's curate the stars with our dreams. Little things you say when I press into you. Oh, you breathe fire? That's cute. There's hope in the asphalt because it can take you somewhere. I live vicariously through my own words, how about you? There are no fools, only lovers.

Break me like a love that was a tsunami, from an earthquake kiss. Precariously, I peek over your madness gauging a smitten opportunity, I strike. With finality I pen the ending of our love story.

There was risk when I saw you for the first time, when I stepped closer, when our eyes met, when we talked. Risk-would keep this mortal love going.

Let me sprinkle little poem kisses all over you. When you learn that you can survive without anyone else's acceptance; that is freedom. That is true freedom. You suddenly have the greatest responsibility, to live for you, that is the greatest motivator, pieces and parts drifting with kisses and headstrong starts.

It's in the eyes, not in the mirror, nor a photograph. The camera has no bias. I can see you. Not "you". It's scary-it's authentic and true. Who are you? Fresh memories trail my fingers and break new skin bleeding not a single drop but, for the ecstasy in your mind-a seamless penetration.

One thought tastes like a lifetime. They fall like rain breaking your landscape plainly and painfully spoken, said, stroked along with fingers furiously devoted, devoured, and outspoken. The sea swallows you like my words. She says my name and I say play with me past several hundred layers, thick skins, burning carcasses, and deeper still-within. She might long for a caress, but she has built a fortress to keep herself safe.

Look at me when you go over the edge. You need no explanation. The worst part is some of us will never see the consequences of our actions. Some of us want the ashes for their warmth. Still, we have a chance at rebirth, and it can be comforting.

I live between her sighs and when she isn't looking, I light her up with words, curves, eyes. These kisses were like candles in your dark and just as I closed the door to my heart, she choked me. As she spoke, slowly it opened for what seemed like eternity. They became little nicks on your lips, then mine. We wanted them to open wide. We didn't hesitate but we died, just a little, until we pressed them, fully.

Even though her mouth was a jar of broken glass with tears in her eyes, still I wanted to see and touch and taste her, like a blood mirror, together. The journey to her was a journey to me begging lips that broke me open. Can you swiftly disarm my fingers when they have led themselves so deeply into you that you cannot breathe and only close your eyes? What critical points strike your pretty parts? Dripped and dipped, words strip and bite at your soft insides.