A Cure for Broken Shoulders

When the rain gravitates towards you

be still, my dear.

Be still and let it touch you

like a lover’s breath on broken shoulders.

 

It sings quite softly, my dear,

but when it does, I swear to you,

the world stops spinning to

let the stars sing along.

 

You’ll feel the tune escape your lips

and your soul will dance in bliss,

Be still, my dear, and let the lover’s

breath write stories of magic on your skin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Elementary Death.

You can die a thousand ways,

but none as beautiful

and devastating

as in

the hands of the elements-

raw, untamed, merciless.

 

You can die in the lap of fire,

the flames licking every crevice

of your body, taming the curve

of your hip and

your dusty lips.

 

You can melt into lava.

 

You can die in the hands of water,

the waves crashing against you

in fury,

sculpting the stone that is you,

into a

tomb, for what will be.

 

You can dissolve into the ocean.

 

You can die at the mercy of air,

the irony settling in

sweetly

as the life-giver,

slowly sucks the

life out of you.

 

You can steal wings from the storm.

 

You can die if the earth chooses to,

as the green turns into grey,

and the ground rumbles

till there’s nothing

left to shake.

 

You can fall into the earth.

 

You can die when the spirit leaves you,

when the emptiness inside

spreads

like a famine,

and captures

your entirety.

 

You can merge into the infinite.