Killers

I have never been able to create on demand,

it has always been feast or famine,

hit or miss,

catch me if you can,

when it comes

it comes,

when it goes

it goes;

she holds me like no other,

her touch overwhelms me,

her lips control my every move;

together we are throwing away a lifetime,

dumping memories and possessions,

heartache and dreams,

misery and sorrow

into a rented dumpster;

we have each other,

we have tomorrow,

we have the Lord;

sometimes words are too precise,

too controlling,

they lose the feel,

they fail to communicate,

they die in translation,

they say more than they should

while not saying all that they could,

sometimes less is more,

sometimes too little enough;

rewrites can be killers,

murder between the lines,

cutting out the silence that lies within,

destroying unseen implications,

ruining ragged edges,

removing dark, empty shadows

forever.

.

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