Stiletto droplets pierce this heart,
Carve their rivers down these cheeks
Before they soak into this soul.

(But the rain washed them away.)

Burning stones that press against
These eyes that only want to cry.
Hemorrhaging heart and terrified tips of
Tongues that beg to say these words.

Beaten bushes beneath these fists,
Scenic routes trampled beneath these toes.
(Yet we never seem to reach the destination.)

And these words that crumble
Like collarbones beneath the pressure.
The weight of this world crushing,
Lusting to devour you.

(Like some other things I could name,
Or is that too direct for us?)

"Say it," she begs and begs,
(But the words never come.)

"Those three words that will lift

Us up into those arms that
Say they'll never let go."

Before they drop us, I'd like to reply.
But your face is too lovely and your
Palms too soft to hurt.

(For now.)