connect the dots

your lips promised a thousand adventures,
whispered them down on the back of my neck
punctuating each one with a kiss,
their monologue built higher and louder
as they ran over my rib cage.
by the time they reached my hips
they were screaming and biting;
promising...

my skin bears them still:
a connect the dots game
numbered from one to infinite possibilities.

my skin remembers them still
though it seems that your lips forgot.

rain and carousels

oh, these crazy rains
each one with it's own name.
distinctive personalities and voices
clashing with our plane from time to time
chasing bad dreams
or throwing us into chaos.

they're the tuning fork of the soul,
forcing it to vibrate in tune,
their droplets throwing the rhythm onto the world
unshackling the beast within...
rage and instincts melding into a crushing wave.

they're symphonies building on contrasts
deconstructing hearts down to the atoms
and piecing them back as carousels
in desolated amusements parks.

open books

an open book
is to be read with all you've got
and all it holds.
you don't get to skip the sad parts
just because you don't trust your tears not to fall.
as you don't get to close your eyes
just because you can't stand the blood or despair.
it will hook you and haunt you.
you'll get the good, the bad and the ugly
because a good book will give it all
and won't be apologetic about it.
it will twist you,
torment you,
slap you then make you laugh,
it will crawl under your skin,
steal pieces of you,
betray your expectations or curse you
but it will love you like no other.

the ones that don't grasp this
are the poorest souls I know.