She is beautiful;
But be careful;
For breaking heart;
Is the only art,She knows;
And there she goes;
Once again in search;
Of a  new heart,a new piece;
For her beautiful masterpiece...

Life.
A rave party of atoms,
Ideas, events, everything; bouncing off-of each other creating,

Now.
A shallow breath, an itch, a masterpiece waiting to be made,
A symphony, a design, a calling.

Then.
Anger, hurt, despair.
Eating at me like a parasite,
Continual. 8

After.
Feeling relaxed, released, and recluse.
Life.

She is Art
And she is a masterpiece.

I’m reading a book of poetry
it's nine hundred pages long,
penned by a man of many dreams
whose words are historical songs.

I remember reading those words
when we studied him back in school,
the class was "American Lit"
masters of the "poets pool".

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
whose work has endured the years,
ole "Wordy Wadsworth” he was named
by the men who were his peers.

His writings contain many musings
spanning the centuries of time,
my favorite story of all
a narrative poem, "Evangeline".

This particular poem, a masterpiece
blending talent, knowledge, and heart,
containing pathos, love, and history
t’was recounting the “Cajun” start.

Numerous stories he's told
using plenty more words, or few,
tales wringing either hard, or soft
embellished with wondrous hues.

Spellbound, in awe of his words
I'm carried away on the wings,
of thoughts, dreams and fantasies
to where his poetic muse springs.
~

you claim that I'm a masterpiece

I wonder if it's because I let you study every layer
and better yet
let you leave your mark

I handed you my heart in the early spring
carving your initials in my bark before I could fully grow leaves

I let you storm my temple
and graffiti my walls
making yourself feel right at home

I felt no need to stop you
completely captivated by your ability to paint me in every color

you could claim me as your masterpiece

if there is anything in this world that I know
it is that sadness doesn’t just leave
it prefers to hang itself on my almost-sure shoulders
it prefers to kiss my knuckles when I am at peace

if there is anything in this world that I know
it is that darkness doesn’t disappear during the day
it loves sneaking into the cracks in my troubled thoughts
it loves the solace of my empty bones

if there is anything in this world that I know
it is that nothing will ever be quiet for me
there are the words I shove back down my windpipe
there are the blue symphonies crying for me

but then again
there are early-morning greetings
and the promise of a cup of coffee that I won’t touch
the chill of the morning seeping into my pajamas with the stars

then again
there are tangles of phrases between my fingers
and the music of leaves dancing
the sun turning my eyes into different worlds

then again
there’s your shadow on the vandalized walls of this city
and the tilt of your smile that I’ve tattooed somewhere in my mind
the tug of your hands on my wrists


so for days that I stopped counting
all that I was sure of was the way I belonged in the crook of your neck
I felt the uncertainty unclasp itself from my spine
the choke of my tears faded into a memory

the dusk paints masterpieces on your serene features
you weave another story of your day
I hold onto your words like they are the only magic I know
I hold onto the bumping of our shoulders in the dying light

the dawn illuminates your drowsy stumbling through the streets
I hold you as we walk through abandonment
you laugh at the sound of your name
and I laugh at the thought of what we could be

for a time that I all but forgot
the sunshine somewhere in me ceased the rain
all the songs sang of you that I found
it was I who kissed your shaky hands

and still time finds a way through the ties around our wrists
maybe it was a lost cause from the beginning
how we fall into each other to fill in the gaps the universe has left
and how once again all of who I am is too much

the promises we made during midday hazes
the dreams that we recited with every flower we picked
the hope we had instilled in each other
the goodbyes that I knew would never be the end

and now all I know
is that the unquiet will never leave me
even when you do.