Sometimes the heart is not the place to write from
Like waiting on a wind, it blows, but you don't breathe.
This irrevocable provocation that ensues disaster, but, it only fills my heart with glee.
That is what your eyes do
The tenderness of your skin
Like a blessing that transcends purely love,
A softness that means everything.
You somehow found a way to bleed this stone I pronounce my heart
Prior to you, I woke up in pieces.
I hoped someone would build me back up
Hopeless I would tread
But you, you, were the breath my lungs would heed
You are the dancer in my soundless ballroom
They say home is where the heart is, well, then I suppose I left mine own upon your doorstep
 It begged, bled, and would dry, but you opened that door
 To only find a smile.
A smile of which would never fade.