Beautiful

Tell me your views on green.
We don’t talk about red here anymore.
Not to be written on paper or skin.
The wrong color can stain.

I don’t want to hurt you. Hands submit, leaving
Half-moon mysteries for one whose
Only language is regret.

Burn me open with your eyes.
Green questions loud as our silence
Shudder closed as punctuation arches your back.

Lay me down on the glass,
Where you’re afraid to follow.
I can hold us both,
but shards say otherwise.
Beautiful.

Children love
The broken thing,
But you won’t love that which broke the child.
Once upon a time, when words
Were more than language…

Your voice fills the room where
he and I burn over water.
Mirror turns those faces to the wall.
Red whispers discernible only to an
Abstract cow.

You speak Beautiful:
Clothes I try not to ruin.
For you the stains are not.

I Fear
My name would be only
A word

Grip my wrists
So hard the pain splinters.
Don’t take the hand that reflects.

Trace the marks.
Bruised mouths that cry
Love when I am silent

Shards of laughter Elipse away
In torn red Beautiful,
While the door
Closes your Sentence.
So we won’t talk about red anymore, but I still dream in color