4 Poetry 4 Prose

we are domesticated man
we could be so much more.

French is dreamy.
An audible reverie.

it's a long way to fall
from the sky
in the form of rain drops
and heartbreak

i can hear the blood pumping in your veins
when you blink, or mumble in your sleep
your heart beat, in rhythm with my own
(mute) inner hurricane

charcoal footprints in the snow
roaming seas and mountains
searching burial grounds
for amulets and thunder clouds

it started with a riddle, a rhyme, a line
her life was an echo, a faded road sign
now she's running with scissors, and blood on her feet
trying to escape from an aching heartbeat

We meet with hearts sealed and closed,
Nailed shut by the past.
Unseeing eyes seek each other
Our mouths quest openings no longer there.

As soothing hands peel open your petal like fingers
I am the ball of paper
you clinched in a fist of fear
slowly uncrumbling to reveal my ink stain secrets

we did not know the voice heard
we knew but only the word

butterfly wing peace
broken in seconds
sent into floating dust
by a fingertip