They are words so beautifully devastating
that they grasp your emotions,
molding them like clay,
into an artful mimic of reality.

Imagine the words coming together.
Letters at the tip of a pen,
Lines and curves becoming vowels and consonants-
Into poetry and paint.
Into love and desolation.
Into death and life.

Your heart slows,
reading the words
as they become.
Writhing masses,
and tender moments,
the sweet, mournful song of winter
as lover's part.

Until it folds in upon itself,
before bursting.
Leaving you too weary to hear the words,
echoing in the night and finally you sleep,
only to dream of stanzas,
in images of saints and phantoms,
that dance as one.

Until years pass,
and I've forgotten it all,
only to relish the memory of a terrible ache
brought on by the destructive elegance
of poetry.