Dear Poetry,

Cemetry Cats

The wolves were out that night—

and all of the hook laden quips

that we concocted

fell upon lips

like a hummingbird's whisper.

Then, they ignited into flames

like burning stars.

That should have been us:

beautiful ash, supernova romance

with tongue and fingers soaked in ink.

We always did find the taste of Heaven

stale, like coffee three days old.

And with that taste still lingering,

you were a walking oxymoron.

A sinner come to save

these easily swayed, glass bones

from smashing into oblivion.

I longed to taste that wild,

untamed energy beneath your skin.

Devour that dragons heart,

and tattoo love along the bruises

I begged you to leave on my arms.

[ The 7 deadly sins wrapped up

  into one nasty little Pisces. ]

You made me violent.

Names come and go,

but the race of these

rose petal hearts

wont easily be forgotten.--

As we spent our nights in graveyards,

with ghosts, in the company of

stone angels and cemetery cats-

Whispering our secrets to the dead.