Watercolored Heartstrings

blackened brushes caress the
outskirts of a masterpiece,
stroking the contours of
the path where your
tears have skydived

a glowering pink
that shrivels the garden of Eden
into pale dust
shaky, scarlet lips forming

the letters,

the sound,

the words,

the blue and green
butterfl es that tug at
my fa ed
waterc lored heartstrings
singe and sing

and a stone with
a tinge of lavender,
a silver band
engraved with

the promise

written whispers and nicotine mornings

I saved a song for you
right here –
in my artery
Shouting in hushed tones;
the universe and the constellations
that seem
and become
a different flavor
in my corneas, as if
the world were made
to please my nostrils…

And those written whispers,
end up in an
ordinary napkin
or uttered to the wrong
taste buds
potentially creating new hues
for the soul; embarrassing the northern lights
or dicing the meat
of the mind; making a common butcher proud

and then comes the nicotine mornings,
because the dark periods were
just as bad
and I needed a hype
to continue on
with this ridiculous
hopefully fictitious –
monotonous charade
that apparently insinuates
that
nothing

is better
and the song
will still
be
tucked
somewhere

here –