I am made of bullets; shrapnel and biting metal
Teeth dripping lead and lips bleeding red
Your lips are soft honey speaking gentleness,
Gossamer and silk-skinned being.
I tear down citadels; built for beauty and war
Thrones erected of bones and shattered hearts
You felled my fortress, breaking brick and stone
with the most tender of caresses.
My palms crush stars to powder; sand in clenched hands
Fists bathed in violet and blue fire
Your fluttering eyelashes a gale, cooling my fingers
And turning molten star-dust to gold.
the Honest Poet 