The Strongest People
               LIVE
To Tell Their Stories.

I burnt out my head
on the asphalt jungle,
doctor recommended
rest and relaxation
and these little blue pills,
now I'm living in the burbs,
on a cul-de-sac of ritalin rainbows
& my neighbors are druggie unicorns

She's like deliquescent caramel,

the cool side of a pillow

        to lay your weary head,

subtleties of springtime &

          warmth in wintertide,

whispering hope upon lush  

        Zephyrus pipe dreams,  

    mellifluous nymph with wings

                 of a butterfly warrior,

softly determined,

    unfailingly true-hearted,

       whilst relentlessly ferocious

  Wise, yet sometimes struts

        blindly in the light,

       as dulcet tones of a cello's

           melodious marmalade

            in sentiment's tender fancy,

she's beauty, charm,

         knowledge, poetry,

               utter strength,

               & humane weaknesses,

she's twisted and ethereal,

           her aura sublimely captivating

     you may covet her body,

            you'll never possess her soul

His letters scatter loose upon the ground,
She clenches fists despite arthritic hands
that rail against the words she never found.
To spite the golden noose of tarnished bands,
she douses tomes and quick lets loose a flame.
A tendril's curling wisp of past desire
snakes toward the sky. Still the ash of blame
survives the ceremony's futile pyre.
What fire ever burns away the dross
or dulls the tempered edges of we're done?
Yet embers coax; they succor heat not lost
to years they burned together each alone.
The groan of ache sounds low within her hips.
One letter saved, pressed tightly to her lips.