The opposite of love is not hate, it's indifference.The opposite of art is not ugliness, it's indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it's indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it's indifference.

skinned

Skin is the only thing that bonds back together,
After I interrupt its brown cover with a blade
Smiling open sensation
This exhilarating raise of
mini-slopes standing for my fingers to stumble over,
Slitting open the continuity of this mask,
Quenches questions of this reality,
Or did he really steal the last
Of me, the last time his own body
Pierced my flesh,
And this is the gutted cut that made me the hopeless
Hemophiliac,
Bleeding open a gap that
No woven fibre of scab could ever try to seal,
And these skin scratches are the only way for me to feel
If I really am who they say,
And these scrapes across my skin only
Takes the sting away,
So that I don’t numb myself to sleep.

-Arielle John copyright 2008

In unsolid stare to heaven, my forehead rests alongside hers, temple to temple. and the ruffles on this bed-sheet might only resemble snow angels without their wings, but she might think that my fingers in her hair is the most relaxing thing for today, leaking some of her hurts away for a while, and her short wild hair never bands together, faulting the feeling of rain stabbing the ends of my fingers, goodness, she is so beautiful a human, and quietly she tries to listen to me breathe so she could mimic my patterns, perching ear against nostril, inhaling her essence, I swear she smells like the rain trying to brew the nectar of earth’s flowers, but the scorch of her sun only makes her blossom brighter, and true to form she was born a fighter, and this is one war where she relishes in a victory that I cannot understand yet.