People Take On The Shapes Of The

I Once Read That You Die Because You See The Angel Of Death, And You Fall In Love. And You Fall In Love So Hard Your Soul Is Sucked Out Through Your Eyes, And That's The Moment Of Death. It's A Lovely, Strange Old Jewish Legend.

I Will Write In Words Of Fire. I Will Write Them On Your Skin. I Will Write About Desire. Write Beginnings, Write Of Sin. You’re The Book I Love The Best, Your Skin Only Holds My Truth, You Will Be A Palimpsest Lines Of Age Rewriting Youth. You Will Not Burn Upon The Pyre. Or Be Buried On The Shelf. You’re My Letter To Desire: And You’ll Never Read Yourself. I Will Trace Each Word And Comma As The Final Dusk Descends, You’re My Tale Of Dreams And Drama, Let Us Find Out How It Ends.

Joy And Sorrow Are Like Milk And Cookies. That's How Well They Go Together.

The Fallen Autumn Leaves Were Slick Beneath Bod's Feet, And The Mists Blurred The Edges Of The World. Nothing Was As Clean-cut As He Had Thought It, A Few Minutes Before.

Never Mind. There. For Good Or Bad. It's Done.