beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

Sword and Sheath

My sword is sharp

Raised high above my head

It cuts through the tendons of

My weakness

Heals in passing

Even as it leaves scars

But oh how you

Are its sheath and without

A place to rest

The edge never dulls

And it turns on me

In its thirst for release

Let me plunge it deep

With the force of my attention

There, I shall rest

A moment’s oblivion

And a reconnection

To the gentle man I can

Sometimes be

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