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 on my hardened nipples

control every move,

together we are throwing away a lifetime,

dumping memories and possessions,

heartache and dreams,

misery and sorrow;

we have each other,

we have tomorrow,

we have the Lord;

sometimes words can be too precise,

too controlling,

they lose their feel,

fail to communicate,

die in translation,

say more than they should

while not saying all that they could,

sometimes less is more,

sometimes too little

is enough;

rewrites can be killers

without even knowing it,

murdering between the lines,

cutting out the silence that lies within,

destroying unseen implications,

ruining ragged edges,

removing dark and empty shadows

forever.

.

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