vines
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Through the cold month
A thin grape vine curls up
A ruined chimneyStanding in a field,
Kissed by rain,
Stone and brick
Are made the same
My right-side brain's growing fowers,
my lungs are sprouting roots.
My heart's a dripping beehive,
its sweetness all for you.
So wrap it all up in paper,
send a burnt offering to the sky.
As we draw closer, We become the naked vine. The two become one- Breath combined.
Her skin so soft, like petals of a rose...His hands fall across her, like a gentle breeze blows.
At first, I thought I was born to do this.
It took a while to realize
that mole was not, in fact, just a mole.
I dream of filling pages, but I never seem to have the words. I dream of being clever, to make people turn their heads and whisper, "how did she do that?"I want to leave them awestruck.
