scribbling verses on her bare back,
my fingers rhyming,
each flourish a caress, etching words of hope,
across the canvas of warm skin.
Her breath
inflamed, seeking fingertips,
lips waltzing in the evening breeze,
dancing free,
abandoning trepidation,
what do i know, as
fingers flutter,
over undulating peaks, valleys,
softly, gently,
as soul meets soul,
she who is half of my whole,
she who remains,
my perennial meditation …
I love her …
1.
she found me, when torrents raged, splinters gnawed,
she found me, when my wings were shattered, my heart tattered,
she found me, when I was desolate, when nothing mattered,
she found me, in the depths of despair, deep in the maelstrom, gasping for air,
she found me, trapped in the quagmire, blind in the clutches of the fog, a captive in that indifferent bog.
She found me.
2.
She reached down, her hand outstretched, infusing hope, picking me up when I was unable to cope,
she pulled me out of the emptiness of that swarming hive, the abyss of loneliness, when I no longer felt alive,
she helped me stand, with my hand on her shoulders, her body and soul bearing my weight, just when I had given up, surrendering myself to the crevasses of frigid fate,
she fed me, nourishing my soul, as I imbibed her warmth, she dug me out of that cavernous hole,
she led me into pastures green and alive, awash with colours radiant and bright, when all I knew was the void of night,
she held me, in the cocoon of her embrace, her hair a waterfall drenching my face, feeling reborn in her bounteous embrace.
3.
I was not worthy of her, and the delicate gentle balm she cocooned me in,
I was not worthy, lying in that discarded alley, of her enveloping me in herself deep within.
I was not worthy, of her healing ,
I was not worthy, of her tender love, her unconditional gift of distilled pristine feeling.
I was not worthy then,
I fear that I am not worthy now.
Still, she loves me,
and I love her from the deepest recesses of my core,
for it is she whom I shall love,
today,
tomorrow,
forevermore.
what are we if not just human?
Beings flailing through the quagmire of life,,
embroiled in emptiness so stark,
hoping to find some solace, some peace,
stumbling along in the dark.
What are we if not just human,
grappling the torturous grind,
stabs of reality wounding us each day,
enduring hollow platitudes,
cloaked in the veneer of strength we portray.
What are we if not just human,
filling the void with trappings of convenience,
deluded that it will dull the pain,
buffering us from truths that surround us,
losing ourselves within our selves,
celebrating the meaningless ornaments that we attain.
What are we if not just human,
no more and no less,
praying for a salvation beyond this realm,
buying redemption with lofty intent,
crawling in apathetic inebriation,
always on our knees, our backs forever bent.
What are we if not just human,
trying to make sense of all we feel inside,
while in truth the masks we wear,
shrouds ourselves in cocoons to hide.
What are we if not just human,
clinging to scraps we find here and there,
what are we if not just human,
jarring ourselves to care.
What are we if not just human,
rekindling the humanity that resides in us all,
refusing to look away while those around us slip and fall.
What are we if not just human,
striving for a world less harsh, more true,
what are we if not just human,
never forgetting that we all bleed red,
him, her, us, and me and you …
Scribbled Verse 
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