I wrap up in her words blanketed in the strokes of letters
Arranged in the warmth of she
As I read it’s the sweetest things my eyes have heard
Every noun, syllable and verb
Covers my cold heart like a sweater warming my bloodstream
These types of things I only visualized in dreams
The way she paints a masterful portrait
Of her moods in hues of vivacious reds
Or somber blues
Or in between when she goes green and her conscious
Straightening my views on love that has been distorted
So to her every scribe I cling like religious to their bibles
I too am waiting for the revival and to hear the trumpets sing
The melody of her words…SPOKEN…
Stroking my soul so softly soothing the tumultuous storm
Simmering in the bowels of my Poetic being
Seeing her words come to life
I would die x infinity twice
So I could be used as her muse to write
….HER WORDS…