the crystal blue

sky

deepens

with

shades

and hues

as my love

deepens for you.

golden

stars

glide,

glistening

in the dark

depths

of night.

my hand

softly

sips

in

your smooth

edges

as

we dance

with

fire,

lighting

the empty possibilities

with liquid magic.

i swallow

this serene

dusk

with ravenous

lust,

hoping

to be filled by

the infinite

wonders

of this midnight dream.

But even the moon

fades

into dust,

and this love

will never last

past the

glassy

glow

of the

hopeful stars.

(so let’s dip our souls in this cloudless blue and let them harden like the golden memories of this unforgettable moment.)

his soul

seemed dipped in

h o n e y

pure and

s w e e t.

but i soon

r e a l i z e d

the

h a r d

way that this

h o n e y

was

d i f f e r e n t

than usual

for it was

b i t t e r s w e e t.

souls

dipped in

saltwater and sand,

in african sunsets

and starry nights,

souls dipped in

the smell of coffee,

in the sounds of the river,

in the people's sweet words.

we carry them home

those souls,

dipped so deeply in the gold,

they drip.

We are, all of us

Souls dipped in black ink.

Dragged helplessly along

An ivory backdrop of being.

Rigid arms, jagged ascenders where we struggle so.

Limp and lilting spines where we gave and bent.

Stresses and strokes and serifs

Carving out our stories in midnight black.

Spattered with droplets errant.

The typography of man

Draw by an invisible hand.

Souls dipped in the gooey melted juice of popsicles and laughter, lake water and chlorinated pools, bubble bath basins and the blood of childhood boo-boos.

Souls dipped in broken glass and the black rolling mud of death, the deepest purple and black and blue, the terrifying knowledge adulthood should bring.

Souls dipped in unwanted attention, the quiet beg for loneliness, the loud quaking need for solitude instead of fortitude.

Souls dipped like bananas in an ice cream bar, the combinations sometimes making sense-- other times, things like chocolate and wasabi are mixed for a particularly strange child. The looks of other people in line, the server and even their own reluctant mother with her quiet protests unphased the young child from making her choice of the peculiarly disgusting chocolate and wasabi mix. Why is wasabi even on the table of a banana dessert bar?

The answer, though seemingly complex is the simplest of all time.

Because everything that happens to you shapes you, being dipped in glass and wasabi or the burning lack of love shapes you to be who you are; you are beautiful and you are strong.

Some souls are dipped in honey

 dripping sugary-sweet lies.

Some souls are dipped in wine

 intoxicated and stumbling through life.

And some souls are dipped in poison

 toxic to any who come within reach.

But your soul was dipped in it all - 

 a hint of honey

 a drop of wine

 a pinch of salt

 and just enough poison to hurt but not kill.

You were everything,

 and my soul was drenched in you.

souls dipped in chlorine,

bathing us from the color

we stained ourselves in.

ridding our limbs

from each others' memory.

bleaching our skin

from each others' misery.

Souls are dipped in stories, dripping the wisdom of a thousand lives.

One: It was once disbursed to billion little places, displaced on an aging Earth, searching for its lost lovers like someone traveling the journey home.

Two: It's not halved, but two parts cling like magnets to one another, through the storms and the hardship and even through death.

Three are the lives of the broken shards, given away to others too soon. Not every piece is part of the same mirror.

Four are the forces of every existence. Life vs. Death, Air vs Earth, Fire vs Water. Spirit vs Object. The way the world balances out every being is with another equally opposite.

Five are the senses. Taste, Touch, Smell, See, and Feel. The energies that flow through every shred of being out there.

Zero and Infinity are the times with which we have to experience these things. For we are alive every moment until we die and live again. The incarnations of every reality ever created, every story that's been told or will be told.

We are the narrators of every challenge overcome, and every defeat. We are everything, and nothing at all. We are the past, the present, the future, and beyond.

We are those very souls, forever all over again.

With their souls dripped in blood the two walked away from the crime scene hand and hand. Knowing their lives would never be the same the two sisters walked into the world as murderers for the first time. They stood still on the porch as red and blue lights shined onto their bloodsoaked skin and clothes. The girls didn't raise their hands, as they were instructed too. Instead, they simply stared into the abyss of gun barrels and megaphones. Their minds never registering the noises around them. The screams and demands going over their heads. Their brains stood still, silent and safe. They felt safe as hands pushed them to the ground and bodies piled on top of them. They felt safe as people crowded them with cameras and questions. They felt safe as the judge yelled guilty. They felt safe as the prison guard walked outside their metal bars. They felt safe knowing the monsters who raised them were dead.