...

whats your point?

.

.

.

(think)

.

speak spell

sentences write stories
spelling blood inside my veins
and spill from lips
or fingertips
while every letter carries
an emotion
forming words
that tell you how
or what or why
it is im feeling
when i...
(sounds like just the way i am
with perfect punctuation)

...and ive lost my voice
trying to find the words...

writing this
unscripted scene
in messages and music
like a neverending story
singing chorus;
lacking verse.

our cryptic curse.

clover

and i giggle
at the thought
of how i babble
like a brook
and write a book
on your white pillow
and i wonder
why this season
brings such showers
and then love
how everything
begins with green

tears spring
and drip to lips
like dew drops do
on flowers.
wet kisses taste salty,
still
nothing is sweeter

see my lover
dressed in purple
while i run through fields of white
all [every] night
and imagine my reflection is the brightest star...

imagine.

a clear sky
fills quickly
and then again
im lost

chapter 3

blank page beckons ink
i think
fresh smells best
on books

my outlook has changed

and characters pass through pages
wait for the pen
your fate rests in my hands

what is
write

lets see where this story ends.

what

i seek what
and who means nothing
more than i do
now and never
thens the only time when
what is what i feel
i want
and who cares
what is what i seek
and who means nothing
more than
more than you
could ever mean to me.

(and i know why)

thats what.