nevermore

 
blank canvas.
like skin- too shades of pale
begging for brushes to touch temples
falling to knees- she'd crumble
in breathtaking agony.
when words destroy distance
and dissonance is merely an exclimation point.
my pen.
it doesn't do her justice.

and she speaks-
in dark blues. I'd take a moment
to compose her. if drops of blood made
sheet music- my spilled ink might
make ears ring in tune
to her singing of heart strings
plucking each to bring forth a .flood.
like pastel lips trace fingertips
down hardwood chests.
heart knocking morse code
love poems- I could tell her trail of
pro.verbs tasted like
god.

she dances on broken dreams.
feet lacerated- on regrets
and I watch with tense tattooed on my neck.
for a stumble- and she lets out
poetry- humbling in the way
I fall for all the words she never had to say
laying on disaster. it's all falling
when I asked her if she dreamt of never
waking alone.
we watched each other piece away
moments of clarity.

and she.
she turns my jawbone to tremmors
and my hands- they speak for me
fingers dancing crecendos
down her pulse.line.
in hindsight.
I'd never
let her
cry.