Crushed Poetry

My life and my world
Neither speak as loudly as my poetry.
A gift from the love of crushed flowers
Glowing like my precious ink.
Keeping me alive, in faith for an underachieved universe
of talent and the unknown
Safety pin the pieces of my fragile intuition back together
And push away my control
because love, it controls me.
My lips fail at the color of crimson
and pinch at the thought of without
You are the with that belongs to me.
Poetry aching in my bones.
Crushing you like sinking rocks
and I'm drowning in the dust.
I love the poetry bringing me to this very point. And I love you.