Raw

I am sculpting from the raw.

It's unpolished, unedited

and above all,

uncompromising.

You seem to be a universe

contained in a single grain of sand.

I’m the love child between the ghosts

of Bettie Page and James Dean.

There's no point to this poem

but to tell you a piece of the story.

I have scars from battles lost,

let's you and I make some glory.

Darling, we should make some time

to afternoon spoon and wreck the night.

Watch the comets take the sky 

we should make some time

to kiss away the fight of life,

two souls lost in the rogue of delight.