His love wrote songs of Solomon and psalms
As he held my face between his palms
Truly speaking in tongues, love in disguise,
even in silence, he sounded so wise.
His thoughts were loud although unheard
Each kiss becoming a mouthful of words
We spoke a language with lips alone…
Couldn’t etch his love in Rosetta stone.

I tasted his love, sweet like ripe plums
swallowed his voice, warm like white rums
He told me I was his Helen of Troy
alphas and omegas spelled his joy
Hieroglyphs swarmed inside my cheeks,
ankhs giving life to his silent speech
Found in translation from reading his lips,
His thoughts were love letters, sealed with a kiss.

i tried to own you, keep you to myself
we could have lived together in the cove
drinking from coconuts,
sucking on mangoes
making love under full silver moons.

but you sifted right through my hand…
no matter how hard i tried,
couldn’t hold on to black sand.

it was you all along
but it was never me…
i couldn’t even save a sample
to take back home
and forever have proof of your perfection.

my golden skin
shined only in your presence,
becoming slightly magnetic
but i didn’t have enough of a pull
to keep you from slipping…through…my fingers.

you still sifted right through my hand…
no matter how hard i tried,
couldn’t hold on to black sand.

no volcanic eruption’s
wicked lava flow
could come close to creating
this igneous rock
that left my heart a black stone.

so i left you on an island
in some untraceable sea
knowing that i’ll never find you again
but you’ll always be my
black sand.

a dream catcher spun of silver,
a never ending realm
forming interlocked lines of
love and deceit,
each turn a shorter distance
to the labyrinth’s center
only to find upon arrival
that nothing was there.

it is not the sheltered light
trapped inside the arms of lace
or the intricate strings
on this instrument of seduction
that make this sticky canvas
so eerily stitched.

it’s how it hides in the dusk
teased only by warm winds,
twilight creeping into darkness
as it feigns a harmless ripple
its beauty only rivaled
by the soft silhouette
of its prey, whose blind innocence
led her to this false embrace.

A butterfly’s wings
Envelope the essence
Of each blink and stride,
Sending echoes of motion
That transform his movements
Into a fingerprinted force
Of air against my skin,
Turning a warm breeze
Into an invisible embrace.

A strong dose of dark rum
poured into the most beautiful mold of a man
with glitter in his smile
and gold in his eyes.
enthralled by it all,
I tried to catch it in a jar:
the beauty of his noise,
his touch, his scent
but the echoes of his voice,
pressure of his fingerprints,
the beats of his heart
all broke the glass
and the love I was collecting
went as quickly as it came…
fading into the wind
like the spirits of love past.