The

Poetry

Lately, it's been a rough going of things. Sometimes all rocks and hard places, pins and needles. Then there are the little things, I don't know if you have heard of it, but here it goes, I like to call it: Heaven. Heaven: the curent in your blood, fueled by the woman who will not let it slow. Does Heaven exist? Does Heaven exist at all? Who knows my friend, who knows.

I know that this is Heaven, the way you shield your body, with the blankets even in the dark. God, you are beautiful. I know that I am small, I know that I bleed, that pain hurts and I am human. I understand people make mistakes, I understand my limits, and I know my weaknesses, But you don't care do you? God, you are beautiful. I have a secret, if you care to hear: I know where heaven is... Somewhere between the color and the darkness of those brown eyes. And that is all I need.

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