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Ouch
She parts her lips
and speaks in ocean streams
with the wave of her tongue.
Willingly, I drown,
in spoken seas of dreams.
And it stings... it stings...
The salt, caught in my pupils,
cleansing my vision of sin.
She loves
with the sharper side of a blade;
slicing open
the white underbelly
of Fear.
And it bleeds... it bleeds...
A javelin-pierce
through defensive skin.
But the truth is,
the throbbing is temporary
like a telephone ring,
at least til I pick up and sing,
"I have packed my bags,
my Love and my violin!
Let us travel off
and string these harmonies
together!"
...Til again: It pains... it pains...
and she asks:
"Why does it hurt?"
Because I keep walking
and slipping on my tears.
