I am meek and rather fragile;
I am weak and slightly brittle.
I am slow and rarely agile,
and I know my mind’s a riddle.
I was strong a decade prior
with a longing for completion
and a fearless, firm desire
never nearing its depletion.
But I met a few betrayals,
and I let them cut right through me.
With these lofty self-portrayals,
I was soft in my undoing.
Then I felt that I could never
come to melt in an embrace,
and I wondered, would I ever
rout this numbing, cold disgrace?
But I’ve found it. Lord, I have it!
It’s resounding through my spirit.
I am healed -- No, I am ravished.
I can feel, see, smell, and hear it
in the words that I am speaking,
those I’ve heard and those I’m dreaming.
I know why I wake up seeking
out her eyes so brightly beaming.
Yet I fear for what will happen
when she’s here within my fingers--
that I’ll rest upon her lap and
learn my best has just not lingered,
that I might not have affection
she’s so rightfully deserving,
that my failing self-protection
left me frail, did not preserve me.
So, I wonder, when I hold her,
will we come to know such treasure?
Will I break upon her shoulder
or retake the reins of pleasure?
I don’t know what will befall me--
will her glow seem not to matter?
Will one touch alone enthrall me
or will such bring me to shatter?
Still, I yearn to brave disaster
just to learn if it’s still flowing,
even if it kills me faster
than to live while never knowing.
But supposing that I make it
and my soul’s in working order.
I will give it all to take it;
I won’t live but to reward her.
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