Some scream to mind, yearn
for those evergreen thistles to
cut dew drops in diamond
upon my paper sheet skin.
Hurt not the healthy, cleanse
rivers of gold with shadows
of trusted tip toes in tears
upon my paper sheet skin.
Whisper a mellow leaf, turn
watchful abyss into meditated
anger, hate, lust, a drowning
upon my paper sheet skin.
And when mine eyes seen
beauty in your hollowed
promises, letting love bleed
upon my paper sheet skin,
does the blade sing shallow
enough to swim grace on
your paper sheet skin.