Inner Exposure

I fell in love with his words,

cascading into a world where every character he spilled

onto an empty canvas was an essence of his psyche

left for someone to capture and absorb into themselves.

I allowed the syllables

that escaped from his fingers to dance upon my flesh

until I could feel his presence in the wind outside my window,

almost as if his voice was being carried throughout

the trees and sprinkled amongst their branches.

His passion poured around me,

an emotional thunderstorm that left bleeding letters

between every crevice; an everlasting reminder

of the poetry his hands had forged from

the abandoned thoughts that clouded his mind.

I fell in love with his words

because it was through those altercations with his pen

that he allowed every layer to be stripped away,

grating my eyes permission to graze upon

the lyrics etched into his soul.