a love poem.

i never forgotten how to dance in between the night time gun fires, shooting in between shooting you and shooting up, shooting stars-we're all always looking up...
but then...
love comes along. (what does love got to do with this?)
and you realize when one falls, we all crumble.
i, walked away wounded hearted-
i, ricochet off toward the wind; in crutches.

we fast foward,

i still sleep with my hands under the pillow,
a familiar last stance. grip. a veteran.
fire still reminds me of the way bumble bees move,
deadly and pretty.
like roses laid silently in cemeteries.