My Love

There is no place you have not touched,
Lightness of being, foolish and sweet,
I bared my all and held nothing back,
And in body and bliss we dared to meet,
My love.

There is no wound you have not seen,
Bowing my neck for fangs or for kiss,
I chose to gamble and bet all on trust,
Blind the eyes that see nothing amiss,
My love.

There is no place you have not pained,
As pain received and pain bestowed,
Like a predator that stalked at hope,
And charged to pain what was not owed,
My love.

There is no wound you have not aggrieved,
With trauma to trauma — until I cower,
The eyes of love heed not the beloved,
Sometimes the sweetest wine will sour,
My love.

Is there no place for the healing salve?
This perfect armor is tight and cold,
And shut from the reach of pain or grace,
Or the tenderness of together growing old,
My love...

Lost...